


Polaroids

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Post-War, Summer Romance, and a lot of fluff, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 20:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: Hermione and Draco fell in love in the summer following the war when they met on a Greek island in 1998. Twenty years later, Draco tells their children the story of how he fell in love with their mother, though the help of a photo album.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This nearly wasn't submitted, but it didn't feel right not to when I worked over this for six straight weeks. That being said, any errors are completely my own. I didn't plan very well, and ended up editing this the day after it was due because the admins told me I could still submit. Yay! 
> 
> It's not tagged for Rape/Non-Con. There is a conversation in this story where an incident of a revel in the presence of the Dark Lord is mentioned. The detail of torture and the non-con portion isn't terribly graphic, but it's there.

**_Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same._ **

**_\- Emily Bronte_ **

* * *

 

**Prologue**

**August 31, 2018**

**Malfoy Residence**

  
  
  
  


“Move your arse.” Lyra mumbled, shoving her brother harshly as she tore through the trunks in the attic. “Mum said they were up here. Where else could they be?” She tied her hair up, bunching it together and growling when the hair tie broke. 

 

“Well, they’re  _ not  _ in the bottom of this trunk.” Scorpius shot back, throwing an old shoe at his older sister’s head. “Why would you want to look at Mum and Dad’s albums anyway? There’s hundreds of portraits all over the manor.” 

 

She huffed, “Scorp, I could see boring, old, official portraits any day. I want to see the picture Mum took when they were falling in love.” Lyra could only glare as her brother shoved his index finger down his throat and gagged. “You act like that now, but you won’t be acting like that with Rose when we’re on the train tomorrow.” 

 

“Shut your mouth!” Scorpius might be her younger brother, but no one ever thought that at first glance. He’d inherited their father’s height standing at the same height as him. He’d gotten the sleek blonde hair that seemed to belong to the Malfoys. Scorp threw himself down in a dusty chair, paying little attention to his clothes. Lanky like their father. 

 

Lyra had her mother’s eyes, something she was repeatedly told, and up until Slytherin’s seeker had told her he could get lost in them, she’d loathed the chocolate brown color. Regardless, the seeker turned out to be a prick. She was an inch taller than their mother, with curls that threatened to strangle her in her sleep. 

 

“It might be interesting. Dad was obviously doing something right. Maybe I could learn a thing or two.” Floorboards creaked as he made his way across the room, dodging the one step that he’d fallen through as a child. During an important meeting with the Minister of Magic. In which he’d landed on the dining room table. “I’ll start going through the shelves over here. Mum would have labeled them.” 

 

“Mum would have labeled what?” 

 

Lyra spun on the balls of her feet, grinning ear to ear when she saw her father leaning against the door frame. Dressed in a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers. His hands were shoved into the pockets as he took one step into the room, taking a long look around. 

 

Their attic was quite literally falling apart. Shelves that had been in place for generations, held together by magic were beginning to bow in the middle. “If Mum ever comes up here, she’ll hex me for not cleaning this up sooner. The last time it was cleaned was,” 

 

“Was when you grounded me for a summer and made me clean it without magic!” Scorpius grumbled. “If I ever see a hammer again it will be too soon.” 

 

Rolling her eyes at her brother, she returned to their father. “Do you know where mum put your photo albums?” 

 

“You’ll have to be more specific.” He replied, one eyebrow arched. “Is there a certain year you’re looking for, or a holiday?” 

 

“It’s the album of the summer before your last year at Hogwarts!” She gushed. His eyes seemed to light up, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. “Mum told me I wouldn’t be able to find it with magic,” 

 

“Which is ridiculous!” Complained Scorpius. “Mum’s the Brightest Witch of Her Age,” 

 

“Sweet Merlin, do  _ not  _ let her hear you say that.” Draco said quietly, throwing a look over his shoulder in case his wife had appeared. “She was over that title in a year. It’s because she never wanted anyone to grab it without her permission. Even if you’d found it without her knowledge, there’s wards around it. She’d have known instantly.” 

 

Draco took two strides across the room, standing in front of a painting with his hands behind his back. “Have the two of you ever looked at this photo?” The eldest Malfoy asked his children, a smug smirk crossing his lips. “Who is this?” 

 

“One of our several ancestors.” Scorpius replied, bored. 

 

“Septimus Malfoy.” Lyra chimed. “He was our great-great grandfather. The painting is from the eighteenth century.” 

 

“Right you are.” Draco smiled

 

“Know it all.” Her brother muttered. 

 

“As bright as you are, surely you can tell me why there is a photo album on the desk beside my late great grandfather?” 

 

Lyra’s eyes widened as she rushed forward, leaning towards the painting while her brother came to stand beside her. “It has your initials, and Mum’s!” 

 

He leaned over her, stepping onto the ledge of the fireplace, and reached directly into the painting. “Brilliant, isn’t it?” 

 

“How in the bloody hell did she expect us to find that?” Scorpius tried to hold his glare, but dissolved into laughter. “She was testing us.” 

 

“Of course she was. She’s always challenging you. You could look at these photos on you own if you life, but I could sit down and tell you the story. The story behind the photos.” At the eager nod of his daughter and the way his son got comfortable in the floor in front of an old table, he took a seat across from the two. “We didn’t get along well, but she has this habit where she works her way into your heart.” 

 


	2. Chapter One

**_“I still remember that day when our eyes first acquainted. A trivial moment of almost nothing - yet the timeless beginning of everything.”_ **

**_-Timothy Joshua_ **

**Chapter 1**

* * *

  
  
  
  
  


_ June 6, 1998, 9 A.M. _

_ Mykonos _

_ Mykonos Bay Hotel _

 

The sight of the tides crashing into the sandy beaches of Mykonos, Greece ought to have brought her some comfort. She sat on her balcony, settling over the railing and looked out over the town. It was gorgeous, but if anything, it made her feel even more empty. An island escape couldn’t erase what was waiting for her in Great Britain. The bright blue waters didn’t help her nightmares at night. 

 

Being alone might have been the worst part. She hadn’t decided if it was for the better or for the worse to have left her friends with vague answers.  _ I just need time to be alone. I can’t process trauma with all of you hovering over me constantly!  _

 

But at least there were a few thousand miles between Hermione and her parents’ graves. The Auror Department had promised what remained of the general population that they had everything under control. That it was only a matter of time before the remaining Death Eaters were rounded up for a one way trip to Azkaban. 

 

With her wand poised in her wand, she twirled it between her fingers. The sun would be setting soon, and with that she wondered if this night would be the same as the last two. She imagined it would be. She’d spent two nights in a club, sitting at a bar where it was all she could do to get herself home afterwards. If Ron, or Harry could see her, they would have thrown a fit. 

 

How unlike her was it to be so out of control? 

 

She found that she was nothing like herself anymore. 

 

* * *

  
  


_ June 6, 1998. Noon.  _

_ De Novo Cafe _

_ Mykonos _

  
  


For someone who was born in the summer months, the season was his least favorite. With fair skin, he would have a healthy dusting of freckles across his nose and a sunburn for the hot months that lied ahead. 

 

Thankfully he was a wizard, and there were small charms to simply get rid of the problem. If it weren’t for the fact that using magic was a constant worry with the new trace on his wand. With all of his knowledge in beauty charms - well, he was a Malfoy, wasn’t he? - he still couldn’t believe the sight in front of him. Seated across the cafe right off the beach, she couldn’t see him. Draco blinked, but she was still there. 

 

Leaned back in a plush chair was definitely Granger. She was sporting a nice tan, her legs tucked under her arse while her sandals sat neatly in the floor. In true fashion she was reading a book, but it was no textbook. The novel had to be Muggle. The one thing that made her debate her identity was that this was an entirely different continent. There was no reason for her to be here, not when her side had bloody won. 

 

Not when she had been one of the ones to lead the uprising against Lord Voldemort. 

 

Despite telling himself that this was the best way to get himself hexed if it was her, he stood from his chair. The metal scratching against the tile and drawing the attention of other patrons. Patrons that had completely avoided him because he had the tell tale Malfoy features. And no matter what part of Wizarding society he was in, he was little more than a pariah to them. 

 

The girl, he refused to believe it was Granger with the way her hair delicately framed her face, didn’t look up as he sat in front of her. His water spilled on the table as he sat it down, reaching behind him to grab plush chair and sink into it. Malfoy swallowed, “Granger?” 

 

Her head snapped up immediately. In the same moment her book was snapped shut, chocolate covered eyes had widened and the sight of him, and she had a fierce grip on her wand. “What are you,” she broke off, taking two deep breaths before letting go of her wand. “What are you doing in Greece?” 

 

“The same thing as you, I imagine. Getting away from everything?” He asked her, reaching for his glass. 

 

She was hesitant to nod. “Yes. I needed some time away. I would have thought your probation would limit you from international travel?” 

 

He swallowed, a drop of cold water sliding along his chin before he wiped it away. “It did, but the Wizengamot allowed me to leave the country after assisting in the capture of my father.” Malfoy averted his eyes, refusing to watch her gaze shift from pity to awe at his actions. “Staying in Great Britain wasn’t that great for me.” 

 

She snorted, “Yes, I would imagine it to be dreadful.” 

 

“Where is Potter and Weasley? I would have thought they would never let you out of their sight.” He watched, eyes flicking to her wand hand every so often, as Granger relaxed into her chair, nibbling her bottom lip before replying. 

 

“They’re home. They’re about to enter the Auror Program.” She replied. Granger tucked her paperback novel between the side of her leg and the chair as she took a long look at him. “What made you come over here, Malfoy? We aren’t friends.” 

 

“Are we enemies?” He retorted, sour, and glared at her. 

 

She rolled her eyes, shifting her weight before resting her chin on her knuckles her elbow digging into the chair’s arm. “Hardly, unless there’s another dark lord in Mykonos Town that I’m not privy to.” 

 

“Was that meant to be a joke?” He gaped. At the easy shrug of her shoulders he added, “That was an awful joke, Granger.” 

 

“Yes, well, Fred was always funny enough for all of us.” She sighed. “No, we aren’t enemies anymore. I would have thought that would be clear after I stood up at your trial.”

 

“Do you expect me to thank you profusely?” 

 

“I stopped expected you to do anything a long time ago.” Her eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. “I’m sorry, are you being civil with me? I wouldn’t know since you’ve always been a prick.” 

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger while reminding himself that it would be a colossal mistake to hex Hermione sodding Granger. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. You’ve always been a cunt, so I’m not sure why I would be civil to you.” 

 

She’d moved before he realized it, but she hadn’t ripped her wand out. No, the frizzy haired bitch had grabbed his water and dumped it over his head. “If you can find it in your heart,  _ if you have one at all,  _ to leave me alone while I’m grieving, I would so very much appreciate it.” She snarled, grabbing her book, and donning a sunhat before storming out the door. 

 

* * *

  
  


_ June 9, 1998. 11 P.M.  _

_ Scarpa Bar _

_ Mykonos _

 

Hermione swayed along to the music, still seated firmly in her chair as her hair slipped from her ponytail. Booming music sounded around her, leaving her no time to think at all, and that was how she got through the nights until sleep would finally claim her. 

 

After being discovered by the likes of Malfoy at the cafe she liked to visit each morning, he hadn’t approached her. He sat as far away from her as she could actually, and flipped through the Daily Prophet each day. She’d caught a couple of the headlines, a few of them including her name. She always averted her eyes before she could read them. It had only been two weeks since she’d quite literally felt the wards go down around her childhood home. 

 

No matter how many aurors had come, no matter how fast travel by apparition was, there simply hadn’t been enough time. An  _ Avada Kedavra  _ only took a second, two if you counted her mum and dad. If there hadn’t been more than one person. Her stomach churned as she slid her glass forward. 

 

The bartender would come back, fill it like he had every night so far. She slid her fingers through her hair, resting her elbow on the glass countertop. “Granger,” 

 

“Oh, what the fuck is it now, Malfoy?” She snapped, obscenities rolling off of her tongue as she spun in the stool to take a hard look at him. “Did you come to insult me again? To call me a cunt? Well, let me tell you that you are the biggest wanker I’ve ever met in my life. First you’re an arse to me all through school. As if that wasn’t enough, you show up here-thousands of miles from that God forsaken country and,” 

 

He clapped his palm over her mouth, muttering something under his breath when she bit the inside of his hand. “To be fair, I only ever called you a cunt when you were acting like a cunt.” 

 

“And I’ve only called you an egotistical prat when you act like one.” She huffed, turning away from him. “Which has been  _ always. _ ” 

 

“Would you let me get a word in?” He growled, slapping sickles onto the counter with enough force to crack the glass. “I don’t bloody care what you give me.” He told the bartender. “I am attempting to be civil, Granger. If you’d just let me talk,” 

 

“If you say another word, I’ll throw booze over you this time.” Hermione retorted. “This island is eighty five kilometers long, and there are dozens of pubs  _ at least.  _ So why are you here, talking to me, and being a pest?” 

 

He put his hands up, and for a moment she thought Malfoy was going to lose his temper and hex her. “I didn’t know about them, about your parents when I was a dick to you the other day.” 

 

She froze, turning her head. She refused to let him see her eyes well up with tears. “Would you have said anything different if you’d known? That’s unlike you, offering to be civil when someone has been hurt.” 

 

He sighed, “I doubt I would have been outwardly nice to you, but I wouldn’t have called you a cunt.” 

 

She snorted, “You apparently know now and you’ve called me that several times in the last five minutes.” 

 

“You were one. Here I am, falling over myself while I try to apologize to you and you’re tearing into my arse!” He exclaimed. 

 

“Well, apology accepted then.” She told him, reaching for the shot glass Adrian slid to her. He was eyeing Malfoy, lip curled in disgust. “He’s with me.” She blurted, unsure of what else to say. 

 

“That easy to earn your forgiveness?” Draco didn’t take the open seat beside her as he questioned her. 

 

She sighed, taking the shot glass into her hand, and holding the lime with the other. “It’s not as if you murdered my parents.” 

 

“Yet I was a Death Eater, just as bad as the lot who did.” There was no mistaking the sound of regret in his voice. “Everyone is aware of it, that I should have been put in Azkaban to rot with my father.” 

 

“You’re not your father.” Hermione admitted, her tongue loosening after yet another drink. The tiny glass slipped from her fingers, rolling across the glass before he caught it. “I said it at your trial, but it was the truth. You’re not as bad as them. I might have thought you were after the night in the Astronomy Tower, but the truth came out.” 

 

“Careful, Granger, or you might get too sappy.” 

 

Rolling her eyes, she bit down on her lip in hesitation. Did she really need to embarrass herself further? Merlin, she made it sound like he had done some great thing by choosing to not kill Albus Dumbledore. “I don’t want to remember the details, but the fact remains that you tried to lie about who we were in Malfoy Manor. I’ll always remember that.” 

 

His lips curved into an awful grimace, an expression that didn’t quite fit on his face. “It didn’t do you much good, Granger. Don’t thank me. I could have done more.” 

 

“You’d have been murdered by Bellatrix. Besides, I’m in one piece aren’t I?” Hermione laughed as he arched an eyebrow. “If you bring up the scar, this tentative peace will end and I will duel you right here in this pub.” 

 

“Would it be possible for you to stop threatening me for even one moment?” He asked her, tipping his shot glass to his mouth. 

 

“Wait, Malfoy, you’re supposed to,”

 

It was too late she realized as he swallowed the tequila without licking the salt rim. His face contorted comically, and she stomped down the urge to giggle. 

 

“What the bloody fuck was that?” He growled. “If I’m expected to pay for that-” Hermione hopped down from her seat, swiping the slice of lime from the folded napkin. “What are you  _ doing _ ?” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes before grasping his jaw gently and forcing his mouth open. “Bite down on the lime and thank me later.” 

 

Adrian stood in front of them, hands down on the bar while he laughed. His voice was warm, sending shivers down her spine as he caught her eyes. The hungry look about him let her know that he wouldn’t have minded if he’d been in Malfoy’s place. 

 

The blond complied. She settled back into her seat with a grin on her face as he pulled the lime from his lips. “That helped.” 

 

“You’ve never had tequila, have you?” Hermione asked. 

 

“You ask that like you’re a seasoned alcoholic. Humor me then, how do I drink this correctly?” 

 

“I’m all too eager to prove I’m better than you in everything, so sure, Malfoy.” Hermione faced the counter, reaching down to adjust her shorts before picking up the glass. “Adrian taught me, so I’m no alcoholic, prat.” 

 

“Are you going to get on with it, or are you going to make a grand show about it?” 

 

“You’re the only one around here who makes a grand show out of everything. You Malfoys are known for theatrics.” At the shake of his head she continued. “You brought peacocks to a major sporting event.  _ Peacocks. _ ” 

 

“Have you always talked this much?” He blinked. “And we are thorough, elegant- I could just draw up a list.” 

 

“A list?” She echoed. “Draco Malfoy, I would be dead before you ran out of flattering adjectives to give yourself. To answer your question, no I don’t normally talk this much. It’s probably the drinks I’ve had. Adrian, do you know how many I’ve had?”

 

The Greek man shook his head as he polished off another glass. “Not a clue, sweetheart.”

 

“Right,” she sighed.

 

“Granger,” Malfoy gasped, and she rolled her eyes at how scandalized he sounded. “is  _ the _ Hermione Granger out of control?” 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She scolded, turning her nose up at him. “Anyway, there’s a technique to it.” She was all too proud to have learned something new, and if it was anything she can hold over his head, even better. “Lick, Sip, and Suck.” 

 

The way his eyes widened made the way her cheeks burned worth it. “I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?”

 

“So, since I’m not going to explain while I’m drinking this. You lick the salt rim, or you can put it on your hand. There’s a redheaded girl across the room who is licking the salt from, well, him.” Draco craned his neck backwards to see a scantily clad local licking a trail up another man’s stomach. It was a pretty picture for Hermione. She could see the allure. The man’s rugged physique, the way his abdomen was so well defined -

 

“Are you going to do that?” 

 

Strands of hair fell into her eyes as she giggled, so clearly inebriated. “Are you offering?”    
  
“You’re pissed, aren’t you?” 

 

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a joke, Malfoy. As if I’d want you to take your clothes off. Thought you’re right. I’m sure if I wasn’t laughing so much I’d have walked away the second you said my name. Turns out  you're not the worst company I’ve ever had.” 

 

“Well, you’ve been slumming it with Weasley. What did you expect?” 

 

Hermione ignored him. “The salt helps with the awful taste. Then you take the shot and bite into the lime. Easy.” It was mostly a mistake that her eyes met Adrian’s when her tongue slid against the rim of the glass, but the smirk that followed was intentional. The taste seemed to still linger a bit after biting into the lime. “And done.” She murmured, trying to mask the grimace that curved her lips. “Are you going to give it another shot?” 

 

Draco snorted. “No pun intended?” 

 

She hummed. “If it’s funny, then intended. If not, ignore me.” 

 

“Sure.” Malfoy nodded to the bartender and caught the glass that was slid to him. He eyed the liquid warily. “All right then.” 

 

“Are you going to drink it, or are you trying to stall?” Hermione blurted, hiding her expression behind her hand when he glared her way. “Testy.” She mumbled. 

 

His tongue darted out to catch the salt from the rim, and then he tipped it to his lips. He bit into the lime, still wincing at the taste. “I prefer firewhiskey.” 

 

She turned back to the bar, looking away from him. “I’m sorry about your father.” Her gaze settled on the various bottles on the back counter, unwilling to look at him. Everything about this was wrong, his presence setting her on edge. “I don’t know how you feel about it, but I assume it must be hard.” 

 

“You don’t have to pretend to feel any remorse for my father, Granger. He’s a bastard, and will probably remain a bastard until he dies in Azkaban.” 

 

“He’s still your father,” she told him softly. “I certainly wouldn’t blame you if you missed him.” He took the seat next to her, bracing his elbows on the countertop, tilting his head to look at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Have you spoken with him?” 

 

He shook his head, waving to Adrian. “Firewhiskey.” It was poured in front of them, slid across the glass and directly into Malfoy’s palm. He took a long drink from it. “No, I haven’t sent him a letter, or gone to visit him. I have no intention to. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have had Lord fucking Voldemort living in our house. I wouldn’t have had to - forget it. It’s nothing.” 

 

“Would you talk about it if we weren’t crowded?” It sounded like her voice, albeit slurred from the booze she’d drank, and the kindness was definitely her. But she would look back and think that this was  _ Malfoy.  _ “It doesn’t make you weak to talk about it, you know. I was tortured in your house. I have this,” Hermione pulled her wand from between her breasts, and vanished the glamour on her arm.

 

He clenched his jaw, looking away, and she instantly regretted being so forthcoming. “Granger, you’re a better person than I am. That’s why I’m not going to detail to you what a revel with the Dark Lord is like, and this time you’ll have to trust that it’s nothing you need to learn about. Get up, I’m taking you back to your hotel.” 

 

“What?” She gasped, twisting in her seat, her foot slamming into wall of the counter. “I’m perfectly fine here, Malfoy. I can go to my hotel on my own when I’m done.” 

 

“Doubtful. Especially with  _ Adrian _ over there staring at you like he’s starving for you. Up you go.” 

 

She sighed. “I usually sit on the beach until I go back to my room.” She told him. “I can’t sleep, so really I’m fine here.” 

 

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders and let it go. “See you around, Granger.” 

 

Downing another drink, the burn of it sliding down her throat, Hermione could feel in the pit of her stomach that he was right. This was hardly the last time she’d see him. 


	3. Chapter Two

**_“The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them. “_ **

**_Thomas Merton_ **

**Chapter 2**

* * *

  
  
  


_ June 8, 1998 _

_ Approximately 10 A.M _

_ De Novo Cafe _

 

“You must have something better to do than to irritate me, Malfoy.” She grumbled, tucking her legs beneath her as she snapped her book shut, melting into the comfortable chair. “Why can’t you sit somewhere else?” 

 

The quaint cafe had become her favorite place to read, with the friendly atmosphere and the occasional laughter. When the door was pushed open she could hear the ocean. Given her newest stroke of bad luck, it was fitting that Malfoy was sitting in the chair opposite of the one he’d found her in two days earlier. 

 

“These chairs are more comfortable than the plastic ones over there. I was looking for you though. I went to that club last night. You weren’t there.” 

 

Setting her sun hat on the black table beside her, she spared him a glance. “Yes, I found another club because I thought you might have been there. I wouldn’t want to ruin my night by running into you.” Hermione replied, the casual jab rolling off of her tongue. 

 

“What’s crawled up your arse and died? You’re not normally this much of a bitch.” His genuine surprise stumped her, and guilt trickled in. “Is this about Weasley?” 

 

Hermione bit her lip. “Malfoy, I’ve tried to ask you to leave me alone. What do you want from me?” 

 

“I’m bored, Granger.” He said as if it were obvious. “What fun is an island holiday if you’ve no one to spend it with?” He said. His arms were slung over the arm rests while he stretched his legs out in front of him. “Before you tell me to invite my friends, they’re all tossers.” 

 

“Seems like you fit right in with them then.” She crossed her legs, her strappy sandal dangling from her foot. “I’m sorry to hear you’re bored, but I enjoy the silence. I came here because I wanted to be alone.” 

 

“That’s ridiculous. Have you seen all the sights they have to offer?” He asked her. “Don’t you like history? Or museums?” 

 

She sighed. “Are you offering to take me out, Malfoy? All I want is to read this book.” 

 

He leaned forward to snatch the book out of her hands. Turning it over and looking over the cover, she could feel her cheeks heating up. “First of all, reading a romance novel isn’t going to help you get over your ginger haired ex boyfriend.” 

 

“And what would you have me do? Explore Greece with the likes of you? You’re an incorrigible prat!” She ripped the book right out of his hands. “And I don’t care for your opinions on how to get over Ronald. Not to mention it was a mutual split, thank you very much.”   
  


“Reading erotic romance isn’t going to help.” He shrugged. “It will set abnormally high standards is what it will do. We don’t have to despise one another for the summer, Granger.” 

 

She was blushing. “I’ll give it one day, and if you’re pleasant company, we can discuss this  _ arrangement  _ tomorrow. What have you got in mind?” Rolling her eyes at the silence, she said, “Right, you haven’t thought of anything.” 

 

“To be fair, I hadn’t thought I’d get this far.” He stood from his chair, offering her his hand. His expression didn’t change when she swatted it away, standing on her own. “Is there anything you’d like to do? Ladies pick first - Granger, why are you laughing?” 

 

Pretending to wipe away a tear, she grinned. “I was thinking how odd it sounds to be called a lady by the likes of you. You called me a troll once.” Hermione swept past him, waving goodbye to the owners as she opened the door. Malfoy caught it, and held it for a pair of elderly women. “Hey, Malfoy,” Hermione began. “how do you feel about the beach?” 

 

He just looked at her. “I chose to come to an island willingly. How do  _ you  _ think I feel about the beach?” 

 

“You’re not off to a great start.” She retorted, holding her floppy sun hat down when it was nearly torn off her head by a sudden gust of wind. 

 

* * *

  
  


_ June 8, 1998 _

_ Mykonos Bay Hotel _

  
  


It brought Hermione a sense of pride when Malfoy’s eyes widened as they walked through the lobby of the hotel she’d picked to stay in for the summer. Much like the rest of the establishment, the elevator was white. Pristine and immaculate like every other part of the hotel she’d seen. 

  
  


The ride up to her floor was silent, with him looking over the buttons on the panel curiously. She tried to think of something, anything to say just to fill the awkward silence, but nothing came to her. As the doors opened, he waited for her to step out first, letting her lead him down the corridor. 

 

“I’m sorry for - ”

 

He waved her off as she let them inside of her room. Draco moved ahead of her, bending down to look at the mini refrigerator at her bedside. “Go change. There’s another place I want to visit before the day is done.” 

 

“Bossy.” She muttered, and let the bathroom door slam shut behind her. Setting the hat, which had been the best purchase she’d made since her arrival, on the hook beside the mirror Hermione pulled the light blue dress from her shoulders and let it pool on the checkered tile. In the waste bin, there was two boxes of hair dye, now empty. 

 

Looking at her hair straight on in the light, she probably should have used a charm to change the color, but it was too late. Now she was blonde, and for some reason Malfoy would not stop bringing it up. She reached back, unsnapping her bra and throwing it into the sink while shimmying out of her knickers. 

 

The bikini was a simple black two piece that she tied around her neck, and her back. She twisted around, looking at how it fit her. Satisfied with the way it fit around over her breasts, she leaned against the counter while she pulled the bottoms up her legs. 

 

The sight that was waiting for her made her giggle however. He must not have heard the door open, but Malfoy was sitting in front of the fridge still. 

 

“Are you trying to see if the light turns off?” She called. 

 

He jumped, his head whipping around to see her. “How did you know?” 

 

“I’m sure all Muggle children have done that at some point. Where are you staying?” Hermione slid her book, a bottle of sunblock and her wand into her bag. The wand sliding into a special pocket.

 

“A floor above you,” he smirked. 

 

“Really? Don’t tell me you brought your house elves with you.” Hermione turned her nose up at him, at which he just laughed. 

 

“They’re home at Malfoy Manor if you really want to know. I already had one pop in with a cake from Mother on my birthday - ”

 

“When was your birthday?” 

 

“June fifth,” he answered. 

 

“Are you telling me that you haven’t celebrated your birthday at all though?” 

 

He shook his head. 

 

“Oh.” Hermione said quietly. “That’s not right. We’ll do something together. What did you want to do?”

 

“Let’s go to the beach first, and I’ll just show you afterward.” He muttered, steering her by her elbow out the door. 

 

* * *

  
  


_ June 8, 1998 _

_ 3:09pm _

_ Agios Stefanos Beach _

 

“What made you choose Greece?” Draco asked her. 

 

Her sandals clicked against the concrete with each step she took, and she peered up at him from under her hat. “I spun a globe and let my finger land on an island. Took a few tries though.” Her dress was sheer and it clung to her in places he hadn’t realized she hid under the Hogwarts robes. “It was just on a whim. I wanted to be far away from everything normal. Is that how you felt?” 

 

He grumbled, “Bit more complicated than that really. Mother is falling apart, but she’s staying with Andromeda now. It’s better for her there. I was tired of being in that drafty manor alone. So I left. We used to have a home here, but the Ministry seized most of our assets after the war.” 

 

She nodded. “You don’t...don’t you what to see if your father has any regrets after the war?” 

 

“Not bloody likely.” He shook his head. “He still believes Purebloods are superior to Muggleborns and Half Bloods. He’ll want me to take over as head of the family immediately after Hogwarts, for me to enter an arranged marriage like it’s what I want.” 

 

“You said that he believes Purebloods are better, but what do you think? A few years ago you felt the same way.” Hermione overstepped a rock, pulling her dress up as she stepped off the sidewalk and into the sand. “I’m impressed with the change is all.” 

 

“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” He answered. “Can you imagine what my father would say?” 

 

He didn’t miss how she looked away from him as she nodded. “I have a vivid imagination.” Hermione said. “Does that not scare you? Not that he could do anything about it now, I suppose.” 

 

“Since he’s a Death Eater, you mean?” He asked her, only to receive an immediate nod. Draco shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t see anything wrong with this.” He motioned between the two of them. “At least, not anymore. I’ve told you about my dysfunctional family, in part. It’s only fair that you tell me your problems now.” 

 

It was astonishing to see the change, to see the way his eyes closed, and his jaw clenched when he remembered his time spent as a Death Eater. Yet it was clear that he felt remorse, and her thoughts were constantly moving as she tried to think of ways to ask him about it. 

 

“Maybe after we find a good spot.” Hermione bounded away from him, spotting two empty chairs that were beside one another. Her cloth bag slid from her shoulder as she set it on the table, and threw herself into the chair. “Tell me something first, you knew Ron and I had broken up by my hair. Why is that?” 

 

He sat across from her, slipping his sandals - she’d made him buy them on the way after insisting they would be more comfortable - off and into the sand. The straw umbrellas over their heads prevented the sun from beating down on their backs. “Blonde is a drastic change from brunette.” 

 

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t explain how you came to your conclusion. How do you know I didn’t just want a change?” She argued. 

 

He rolled his eyes. “What color hair does that chit he cheated on you with have?” 

 

Her eyes widened before she tore her eyes away from him.”How did you know?” 

 

“It was a well placed guess. Tell me what happened, but for Merlin’s sake, don’t start crying on me. Go on.” He relaxed in the chair, laying on his back while she moved to pull a bottle from her bag. “What is that?” 

 

She passed him the bottle for him to read. “Tanning lotion. We’re on the beach, might as well get a tan while I’m here.” An incredulous look settled on his face as he tossed it back to her. “Not all of us are fair skinned babies like you.” As she set to rubbing the lotion into her skin, she looked away, ultimately failing to notice that he was stunned. “Long story short, I arrived at the Burrow to surprise Ron. Silly me, but can you imagine my surprise when I walked into his bedroom and he was shagging Lavender Brown over his desk?” 

 

“I suppose he’s never used it for studying, so he might as well get some use out of it.” He drawled just as his eyes drifted shut. “Oi, what the fuck!” He snapped, rubbing his nose where her damned bottle had hit him. 

 

“Could you at least pretend to be considerate?” She said. “Moving on, and could you hand that back, I wasn’t quite done yet.” 

 

“Catch it then.” He snarled and hurled it back at her. His eyebrows drew together when she caught it, flipping it over and squirting some of the lotion into her hand, massaging it into her shoulders. 

 

“There’s not much else to tell. We both knew we weren’t compatible. I wasn’t enough to distract him from the death of Fred, just like he wasn’t enough for me lose myself in. It was a mutual split, and it didn’t hurt either of us like it should have. Though it might have wounded my pride. So I took the first international port key out.” 

 

“That,” he clicked his tongue. “sounds irresponsible. Wholly unlike you if you ask me. What are you doing?” 

 

She’d turned to a man lounging in a chair on her left, biting her lip. “Excuse me, sir?” Her voice was sweet, much kinder than he’d ever heard. Given he had only ever heard her nagging the troublesome twosome, or yelling in the middle of a sodding battle, he tried to play off his surprise.  

 

Bare chested, and sporting a dark beard, the man’s head fell to face her as he opened his eyes. His eyes drifted over Granger’s body hungrily as he sized her up. “Yes?” 

 

“Would you mind helping me? I can’t reach my back.” Hermione turned her back when he stood from his chair, moving to crouch behind her. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” She offered, but the smirk on her face said otherwise. 

 

It gave Draco the impression that she was proud of the fact that she had the attention of someone so  _ unlike  _ Weasley. He felt nauseous at the sight and pretended to gag in front of her. Then her lips parted and her eyelids fluttered shut and Malfoy almost asked,  _ what the fuck is he doing?  _

 

“It’s no problem. Your boyfriend couldn’t help you? Seems like you’re with the wrong man then.” 

 

“She’s not my sodding girlfriend.” Draco snapped, grabbing the nearest thing to distract himself with, and it just so happened to be the same novel she’d been reading earlier. “Merlin, Granger, what are you reading?  _ ‘His stubble scratched the insides of her thighs as he..’  _ What the fuck.” He dropped the novel into the sand, images he didn’t want to see going through his brain. 

 

Hermione managed an awkward laugh. “I’m assuming you don’t actually need me to explain what they’re doing in that book.” 

 

“Spare me,” he growled. 

 

“Forgive him, he’s not house trained yet.” Hermione told the man behind her. “He’s not my boyfriend, or even my friend,” 

 

“You damned bitch, who is the inconsiderate one now?” 

 

Hermione reached over her shoulder to take the bottle from the handsome stranger’s hand. “Thank you for your help. Malfoy, stop being a child and roll back over so I can finish my story.” 

 

Begrudgingly, he rolled onto his side to face her. “No one knows where I’m at really, and that’s exactly what I wanted. A summer where I didn’t have to be known as Harry Potter’s best friend, The Boy Who Lived, or one third of the golden trio, or any of that garbage. Would you hand me my book? I’m going to sunbathe for a bit.” 

 

He leaned over, grabbing the book by it’s spine and tossing it to her. “You do that, Granger. I’ll be laying here. Don’t run off and ditch me, yeah?” 

 

She shot him an obscene gesture. “I could say the same to you. For all I know you’re luring me into a sense of false security until I feel comfortable and then you’ll be a prat to me.” 

 

“Oh, come off it. I propose we call a truce. Limited to Greece’s borders only.” His propped his head up by crossing his arms behind his head. “Might as well accept that you’re stuck with me until the end of August.” 

 

She didn’t say a word as she dragged a towel out and laid it across the sand, laying flat on her stomach while reached back to pull the string of her bikini from around her back. He’d, mistakenly, opened his eyes and his mouth went dry. Granger propped herself up on her elbows to read her raunchy book and he was certain she’d laid horizontal in front of him to torture him. Why else would she have laid where he could see the sides of her breasts?

 

If the wind didn’t knock her top to the side to expose her nipple, he supposed he’d have to do something about it. Granger wouldn’t know the difference. 

  
  
  



	4. Chapter Three

**_"She lived in me like the first days of summer. She was warm and new and infinitely possible.”_ **

**_-Atticus_ **

**Chapter Three**

* * *

 

_June 8, 1998. 7:30 P.M._

_Little Venice_

_Mykonos_

 

His eyes stayed on the crowds in front of them as they walked through the streets. Her clothes were nearly dry now, but she still hadn’t forgiven him for throwing her into the oncoming tide just before they left.

 

Hermione looked at the shops they were quickly approaching. “Is this Little Venice?”

 

He smirked, “It is. There’s a pub here I wanted to visit, but I assumed you might like to see the sunset from the balcony. Mother says it’s the best sunset she’s ever seen.”

 

Her lips parted in surprise, and her hand flew up to catch her hat before the wind blew it right off her head, something that happened so often it was hard not to find endearing. Malfoy didn’t look down to see her beaming up at him, but judging from the smug smirk on his face, that bastard knew. “That’s thoughtful of you. Is there time to go into a that shop right there? They have cameras on sale.”

 

Before he could ask her what a camera was, she told him she would show him and she grabbed his arm, pulling him to the store as fast as she could. To be expected, the line for the sale was long and it was immediately after they got into the line that she realized she didn’t have enough, so the polaroid camera that was just calling to her was completely out of the question.

 

“Let’s go.” Hermione murmured, turning away from the line as if she weren’t disappointed at all.

 

“Mister Malfoy! What a pleasant surprise.” The voice was low, more cheerful than she could have expected anyone to be when greeting Malfoy.

 

Perhaps he wasn’t a prick to everyone he met. “Mister Thatcher, it’s nice to see you. Are you on holiday as well?” Malfoy reached out to shake the man’s hand.

 

Hermione didn’t look up from under her hat, choosing to keep her head down instead. It was a sharp reminder that she was not invisible to the rest of the world, and being at Malfoy’s side was sure to get back to her friends. They would show up in Mykonos just to cause a scene.  

 

“If only, my boy. There’s been a string of magical crimes here, so you’d do well to look after yourself and this pretty girl you have with you.” If she weren’t trying to remain quiet, Hermione would have gagged when thick, meaty fingers reached out to pull her hat away.

 

Breaking her facade, she smacked his hand away and stormed outside. However long Malfoy wanted to spend talking to that man, Hermione would rather wait elsewhere. She sat on an empty stone bench, leaning her back against the cool stone wall behind her and crossed her legs. As much as she was loathe to admit it, Malfoy had known Little Venice would be breathtaking.

 

In front of her, in cobblestone streets that she adored, couples, and families made their way towards the restaurants with a nice view of the beach. Hermione bit lip, her hands gripping the edge of the bench. Crowds never failed to make her feel uncomfortable. Strangers always bumping into her, or how they always seemed be so loud.

 

“Granger,” Draco said from beside her, but she didn’t look up at him. “this doesn’t mean I’m some nice sap, all right?”

 

“What on earth are you babbling about? We came to Little Venice because you wanted to go to a pub, not for me - ” A gift bag landed in her lap, a heavy weight across the tops of her legs. “Malfoy?” When Hermione finally looked up, he was wearing a smug grin. Reaching into the bag carefully, she pulled dark blue tissue paper out until she had a firm grip on the heavy object. Pulling out the camera, her mouth fell open and her eyes burned. “How did you..?”

 

Malfoy shrugged. “You were so excited to have it, and I thought - whoa.”

 

Setting the camera down on the bench as carefully as she could, Hermione lunged forward, throwing her arms around his neck. Her hat drifted to the ground at their feet. “Thank you,” she whispered, afraid her voice might break if it were any higher.

 

“You’re welcome.” He said, his voice strained and patted her on the back before wrapping one arm around her waist. Inhaling the scent of vanilla before letting her go.

 

Hermione’s cheeks were flaming as she looked back to the camera, scooping it up into her hands. “Shall we?” She asked. “Lead the way.” She walked several steps behind him, lifting the camera up and peering through the lense.

 

“Are you taking a picture of me?” He called, turning to look back at her just as she took the photo. As it slid out, she plucked it from where it was spit out. “Did it turn out well?”

 

Hermione’s mouth dried a bit as she looked it over. He looked just the same, black swim trunks coupled with a blue v neck that she’d thrown at him while they were shopping earlier. Yet the photo had captured his from an angle, showcasing his sharp jawline and what could only be considered a playful glare back at her. “Here,” Hermione told him, jogging to catch up to his pace.

 

His fingers brushed against hers as he took the photograph from her. His eyebrows shot up. “This _did_ turn out well. I suppose I always knew it would, given the subject. I was more worried about Muggle objects screwing up.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “What’s happened to make you so tolerant of anything Muggle?” Hermione was unable to keep accusations out of her voice. “It’s wholly unlike you to buy something like this, much less for someone like me. Or to - ”

 

“Do you plan to ramble all night, or may I tell you anything?”

 

Her mouth snapped shut and she gritted her teeth. “Prat.”

 

“Since Lucius,” he barely calls him Father, unless it’s in spite she notices. “has been in Azkaban, Mother has been more tolerant because of Andromeda. Suffice to say that he didn’t know about that, since he’s been sentenced to life in Azkaban there is no reason to pretend I believe in his stuffy old ideas anymore. What’s that look for?”

 

She’d stopped in the middle of the street, staring at him unabashed, her eyes wide with shock. “When did they become stuffy old ideas exactly?” She prodded.

 

He shrugged. “Do you want a date? Maybe in third year, probably sometime after you broke my nose. I called you a Mudblood, made you cry and then you hit me.” He laughed. “I was shocked. Mother told me I deserved it, and I had a think. It came with the sharp realization that no matter what I thought, I wanted to protect my family.”

 

“I’m not sorry I broke your nose. You _did_ deserve it.”

 

Malfoy walked along the street, the corner of his lip twitching when she would stop to capture photos of the architecture. “Oh, Thatcher advised me that it would be wise to buy more film, whatever that is. I assumed you would know.” A nod. “Good, because I likely bought too much.”

 

Her laugh was like windchimes and he was grateful she was looking away from him. Less she might see the genuine smile that had planted itself on his face.

* * *

  
  


_June 8, 1998_

_7:55 P.M._

_Caprice Bar, Little Venice_

_Mykonos_

  


He held himself to the fact that anything Malfoys’ did, they did well. So he wasn’t surprised, but smug when Granger’s eyes lit up as they stepped into Caprice Bar. A man behind the counter waved to him, likely noticing him because of the white blonde hair all Malfoys had. “Impressed?” He drawled as Granger picked her dress up before walking up the steps.

 

“Would you quit looking for comments?” The soft fabric of her dress slipped from her fingers. It was likely he’d be in a constant state of awe for the summer. Each time she stepped out from changing, it sent a familiar feeling straight to his groin. Nevermind that this was _Granger,_ know it all swot, and his only academic rival through school. And about a dozen other things that were setting of all kinds of warning signs in his head.

 

It hadn’t been a coincidence that he chose to walk behind her. The black dress hugged her torso, snug around her hips and her arse was exquisitely framed. She stopped in front of him, hesitating as she looked over the tables in the room. Gripping her gift with her fingers tightly, she turned to him.

 

“Follow me out onto the balcony.” He told her. Over the top of her head he could see the bartender, the same one who had just waved at him, sizing her up. “You’d better hope you didn’t take too many photos. You’ll want to remember this.” He motioned for her to go ahead of him once more, watching her hips sway as she climbed the three steps. “Find a table for us.”

 

“Where are you going?” For Merlin’s sake, did she have to lean over the railing like that? Her cleavage was on full display, pressed together and too fucking enticing.

 

“Need a drink.” He grumbled under his breath.

 

* * *

  
  
Hermione stood on the crowded patio, seeing two white and blue chairs right on the edge of the patio. The bar was built on the seafront of Little Venice, looking out across the Aegean sea. It was a wonder there weren’t more patrons as she picked the seat closest to the end and sat her handbag in the one beside her. Pulling her camera up and leaning backwards to get the best view of the bright sun ray reflecting off the water, she took another photograph, setting it on the table beside her.

 

The sun was low, nearly ready to set. Hermione wound her fingers into her hair, tugging the hair tie from her hand and brushing her damp curls out with her fingers. Her view was stunning, with the warmth of the sun still on her face. It was chilly inside of the pub, wisps of air trailing out of the open doors and meeting the bare skin of her back.

Slipping her sandals off, Hermione dipped her toes into the water that sent shivers up her spine. She tugged her dress up to rest mid calf, leaning back into the chair. She was eager for the sun to drop lowers, so she could take a picture as it seemed to disappear below the ocean.

 

Malfoy came to sit in the chair beside her, handing her a glass. Hermione wiggled her toes beneath the water and held the straw, taking a sip from the orange and red drink. A small noise slipped from her mouth at the fruity taste. Not having to look at him to know he was smirking, she didn’t bother at all. “Your mother was right.” Hermione told him, setting her glass on the table. “I like that I can put my feet in the water the most, I think.”

 

“I fell off the ledge when I was a child.” He told her quietly, glancing over his shoulder. “To be exact, Theo shoved me off of the ledge.”

 

She turned to look at him in horror. “How old were you?”

 

“Five?”

 

Hermione only shook her head. “I think the worst thing I ever did as a child was I broke my arm from climbing a tree. It was awful. If there’s anything I’m overly grateful for, it would be how quickly Wizards are able to heal.”

 

“How do Muggles manage?” He asked her, taking a drink of firewhiskey. _How typical._

 

“It would be hard to explain, I think, but trust that it is a long process. I was in a cast for weeks.” He gave a nod, and Hermione reached for her camera. “Do you mind if I take photographs of you?”

 

“Not at all. I am incredibly attractive.” He was smirking as he said it, lifting his glass to his lips once more and Hermione pressed the button just in time to catch him in the motion. The picture slid out and she set it on the table.

 

“Conceited,” she corrected. “thank you for bringing me a drink. I can pay you back.” It was more of a courtesy, but still the surprise was visible when he told her that it wasn’t a problem for him to pay for it. “Malfoy, it’s not an issue.”

 

“I’m the one who dragged you away from reading today, so the gentlemanly thing to do would be to pay for your drinks.” Malfoy told her, kicking his shoes off and slipping his toes into the cool water alongside her. “You told me you’d give it the day and then we could discuss it tomorrow. Has my company been that horrific?”

 

She sighed, “Consider me impressed. I thought for sure you were going to be a prat. I assumed you would be defensive over every last thing I had to say, but instead you were _nice._ ” Her nose crinkled and her eyebrows knitted together. “You bought me a Muggle camera, so I suppose we can give it another day.”

 

“Cheers.” He murmured, holding his glass out to her and she clinked hers against his. “Oi, Granger. You told me how you wanted to be someone else, someone who wasn’t Saint Potter’s best friend.”

 

Hermione nodded.

 

“Do you imagine I could be someone else?” He didn’t look at her, didn’t even spare her a glance as he took another drink, and he was prepared to pretend he had never said anything at all.

 

She nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. “I think Mykonos could be the one place we can be different. Some of them know who we are, but that’s not to say that we can’t be...well, whoever it is we want to be for the summer.”

 

“It has to end at the end of summer?” He asked her, turning to her finally. Her mouth went dry as he arched an eyebrow.

 

It was nothing, just a reprieve that was currently being dangled right in front of her. Yet no matter what way she spun it, it sounded like a deal with the devil. Tilting her head to the side, she told him softly, “I’m not sure. I think it might be a case by case decision.”

 

He nodded, “Right.”

 

Hermione clasped her hands in her lap, preparing herself for possible disappointment if this blew up in her face. “Hello, I’m Hermione Granger.” She told him, extending her hand to him.

 

For three painful seconds he only looked at her curiously. A sigh of relief escaped her when he set his glass down and pulled her hand to his lips. The gentle brush of his lips against her skin set the nerves there on fire. “Draco Malfoy.”

 

“Okay, but is the kissing my hand a Pureblood custom, or were you just trying to surprise me?” Hermione’s giggles broke apart her voice.

 

Malfoy just leaned back in his seat. “It’s called manners, Granger. I could educate you if you’d like?”

 

Perhaps her howling with laughter was the last thing she needed to do given the attention it attracted. “Draco,” his name rolled off her tongue, and it was worth the awkwardness to see the surprised look on his face. “I assure you I will not be kissing your hand.”

 

He sniggered.

 


	5. Chapter Four

**_“When I’m with you, I don’t breathe quite right.”_ **

**_-F. Scott Fitzgerald._ **

**Chapter Four**

* * *

 

_ June 14th, 1998, 9:23 A.M _

_ Mykonos Bay Hotel _

_ Mykonos _

 

Since her arrival on the island, she had cut off the floo in her bedroom. Harry and Ron both would have called her frequently - probably still had each day,  hoping to see she’d given them access. Bless them, they had tried to understand she needed her space, but they couldn’t wrap their head around the fact that she needed to be away from them, needed to heal on her own. 

 

Though she wasn’t sure getting pissed in pubs with Draco Malfoy would be their idea of healing. She would have been still sleeping off her raging hangover, but she’d stirred to a an owl pecking at her window. Pursing her lips, she raised the window, taking the letter and feeding Jaxie a treat. 

 

Harry’s owl was a tawny brown, one that always nuzzled Hermione’s hand when she delivered a letter. She wasn’t surprised that it was short, barely a paragraph long. Hermione sat at the foot of her bed, tearing the seal and reading over his newest words. 

 

_ Hermione,  _

 

_ We miss you. I know I’ve said that, and I’m sure I’ll say it in every letter that I send you. Ron’s not able to write you yet, but I think you both need that space. He’s in a bad place, and I know you’ll hate to hear it, but Lavender is helping him. He’s started coming down for dinner, and I thought you would like to know how he’s improving after Fred’s death. I can understand why you didn’t tell us where you were headed to, but Greece? Please consider letting us call you through floo, even if it’s only for five minutes. Ginny says hello. Please write me back and tell me how you are.  _

 

_ Harry.  _

 

Hermione wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, setting the letter on the sheets beside her. Behind her, her bed was nearly destroyed, the blanket torn from it and tossed into the floor, the sheets yanked from around the mattress from her thrashing the night before. There was a spot of blood from where she’d scratched at her arm, raking her nails over the healing wound.  

 

Taking a deep breath, she stood and made her way over to the desk, licking her finger and grabbing a piece of parchment from the stack. Her hand halted as a knock came on her door. It was too late in the morning for it to be housecleaning, which left one person. 

 

Padding across the floor and adjusting the shirt she’d slept into to go to her knees, she doubled checked in the mirror to make sure he wouldn’t see that she’d been crying. Malfoy stood in front of her door, his hands tucked into his front pockets. “Morning,” he nodded. 

 

“Just come in.” She sighed, opening the door and stepping to the side. “Have a seat, I need to write a letter to Harry now that he’s found me.” Hermione pointed towards Jaxie, who sat in the windowsill, bathing in the sunlight and ruffling her feathers. “She’s been instructed not to leave until she had a response.” It had only been a matter of time before Harry learned where she’d escaped to. 

 

“Saint Potter is as irritating as ever, isn’t he?” He remarked, eyes raking over the disaster that was her bed, but he sat in the spare chair beside her desk. “Will you mention me at all? I’d prefer to have a heads up so I could leave Greece before he gets here to murder me.” 

 

She snorted. “It’s not Harry you should worry about, it’s Ron. He’s far less tolerant. Your trial is probably partly why he sought comfort in Lavender Brown.” 

 

His head snapped up, his arms resting on his knees and his hands clasped. “Are you insinuating that I’m the cause of your breakup with Weasley?” He scoffed. “You’re welcome then.” 

 

She rolled her eyes, settling into her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “He told me before I walked into your trial that it would be a betrayal to him, the the memory of Fred and the others killed, if I were to defend an ex Death Eater.” 

 

“Is that why you stormed into the Wizengamot? Is that why your cheeks were so flushed?” Draco asked calmly, staring at her as she stuttered. 

 

“That’s an oddly specific question. I had no idea you paid so much attention to me. He’s heartbroken, and I wasn’t the person that helped him through it.” She said quietly. “Actually I was the person who made it worse. When my parents were killed, we just - it just wasn’t working anymore. He found his comfort in sticking close to his family, to me.” 

 

“And you?” He prodded. “How did you cope?” 

 

“Unhealthy as it was, I didn’t. I went on as if I didn’t apparate into my home to find them lifeless on the ground. It was the last thing I wanted to talk about, Ron didn’t get it, and he tried, well, he tried to force me to talk about it. He lashed out, throwing things, screaming how I needed to accept that they were dead, how they weren’t coming back,” She broke off, staring at the ceiling while blinking her tears away slowly. 

 

“You don’t have continue telling me a damn thing. It’s not my business, Granger, but you don’t have to pretend be strong through it either.” He shrugged. “Write your letter, we have plans. Tell Weasel that Draco said he’s a prick. And that him doesn’t know how to handle women.” 

 

She spun away from him, hiding her smile, and pulling a pen from a cup on the desk. He didn’t ask her what the Muggle object was, but his eyebrows shot into his hairline when she began writing. 

 

_ Harry,  _

 

_ I’m well. The change of scenery was for the best, I think. It’s nice to be surrounded by sand and and such beautiful beaches. Mykonos is a welcome change after spending the last year on the run.  _

 

_ I can’t lie to you; I feel like a coward for fleeing England. I wanted to be somewhere that wasn’t submerged in memories. I guess I just wanted a fresh start even though I’m not sure how long it will last.  _

 

_ It’s lovely here. I’ve made a friend - I hope at least - in someone rather unexpected. I don’t think the summer will be as awful as it began anymore.  _

 

_ I’ll send you a picture I’ve taken, and I’ll see you soon. If I decide to let the floo down, I’ll let you know.  _

 

_ Love, Hermione.  _

 

Pulling a drawer open of her desk she grabbed a photo, and Malfoy smirked. It had been a fight to get him to agree to take a photo of her, but he had. Begrudgingly. 

 

Hermione sent the photo of herself sitting on the edge of Caprice with her legs below the cool water and her dress pulled to lie flat across her knees. She wouldn’t have thought Draco would take such a good candid, but he was a pleasant surprise sometimes. She sat in front of the setting sun, her straw hat dipped low enough to hide her eyes, but showcased her lips. 

 

She had been laughing at something he’d said. 

 

“You’re really going to send that one to Potter?” He asked her. “At least make a copy of it for yourself, it’s a good photograph, even though it doesn’t move.” 

 

“He’s not going to destroy it, Malfoy.” She argued, but scribbled a quick note not to lose the photo. “What plans do we have? I haven’t even slept enough yet.” 

 

“Then you shouldn’t have challenged me to a drinking contest you knew you would lose last night.” He snorted. “You’re good at a lot of things, Granger, but holding your booze is not one of them. Go get dressed. You reek of a pub.” 

 

“Because you  _ dragged me to three of them!” _ She snapped, kicking his shin when he chuckled at her. 

 

“I carried you to the last two.” He corrected. “You were pissed.” 

 

“Yes, well it was your fault.” Hermione glared at him. “Where are we going? I’d like to go swimming.” 

 

He kicked his feet up in her chair, waving her off. “Sure, but we have plans for tonight.” 

 

She cast a look over her shoulder. “Am I allowed to pay for myself?” 

 

“Likely not.” He replied without looking at her. “It’s not as if I’m ever going to burn through this inheritance anyway, even with the Ministry putting a dent in it. I’d better at least give it my best shot.”

 

Hermione grabbed her swimsuit from the floor beside her bed. The black two piece was still damp from their trip to the beach yesterday. “Have you spoken with your mother?” She asked him. 

 

“Flooed her earlier.” 

 

“How is she?” 

 

“For Merlin’s sake, stop talking and go put yourself in that bikini before I do it for you.” Draco snarled and the bathroom door slammed shut behind her. 

 

He’d hoped she would continue talking so he could test that shirt over her head. 

 

He supposed he ought to get a better handle on his emotions. This was Granger after all, swot extraordinaire. 

 

* * *

_ June 14, 1998, 11 A.M. _

_ Paradise Beach _

_ Mykonos _

 

Hermione hadn’t been aware that his beach was nudist friendly when she had picked it, and felt like staring down the end of her own wand. Not willing to admit her mistake to the smug bastard beside her, she shrugged and spread out her towel, laying in the sand. “Could rub some of this onto my back?” She called to him. 

 

“You’re not grabbing a stranger this time?” He asked her, choosing to lay down his own towel beside her. Even though he didn’t see why they weren’t using the chairs that had been laid out for them. 

 

“I will if it makes you uncomfortable,” her comment dug right under his skin, as if she were implying that he were afraid to. 

 

“This one is different.” Draco leaned over her back, grabbing the white bottle she held in her hand. “Why don’t you use magic to do this?” 

 

“I like to rub it in myself, but I can’t reach my back is all. It’s soothing when you apply it by hand. And it’s sunblock. I got a bit more of a tan than I wanted last week, and I’d rather not look like a tomato.” 

 

“Red isn’t your color.” He told her, flipping the lid open, squirting some over his pam. The lotion was cool as he spread it across the tops of her shoulders. She laid her head on her crossed arms, a small sound leaving her. “You know, I don’t care for the nudist beach, and there are plenty of others on this island.” 

 

“I have an idea, but I’m certain you won’t like it.” Hermione said, balling her hands into fists as he massaged the small of her back. 

 

He leaned away from her, throwing the bottle of sunblock into the and and laying down beside her. “With a delivery like that, I’m sure I won’t like it. Let’s have it.” 

 

Hermione turned her head to face him, nibbling her bottom lip. “You’ll have to trust me. If I tell you, you’ll get scared.” 

 

He scoffed. “You give me little credit. Where are we going?” 

 

“I can apparate us there.” She muttered, surprise crossing her face that he’d actually told her yes. “I found it after I first arrived on the island.” Gathering her things and sliding them back into her bag, which was just a much larger version of the beaded bag she’d carried around for a year, she waited for him to grab their towels. “Hold on to me.” 

 

“I’m quite aware of how Side Along Apparition works, Granger.” He drawled. 

 

She huffed, glaring up at him. “If the Fates are smiling down on me, I’ve forgotten and you’ll get splinched.” She growled, and they were gone with a very satisfying crack. The act of Apparition had always unnerved her, the way Harry had described it to be like squeezing through a small tube was all too true. 

 

Landing on her feet, she stumbled over a rock only to be caught by Malfoy’s arm shooting out on front of her. “I think you miscalculated by a bit, Granger. The water is down there, and we’re here.” He looked over the edge, peering at the bright blue waters underneath the cliff. 

 

She shook her head, pulling the strapless dress that went to her feet over her head. Hermione discarded it where she’d dropped her bag, though the maxi dress slid into a pile of leaves. “You give me little credit.” She mocked. “I didn’t miss, we’re jumping.” With her arms folded across her chest, she waited. 

 

“ _ Jumping? _ ” He echoed. “What in seven hells made you think that would be a good idea? Do you even know how deep that water is?” A nod. “You’ve already done it, haven’t you?” 

 

Another nod, this time with a grin from ear to ear. “There were some locals in De Novo the day I got here and I heard about it, so I came with them. There’s a cave under here that can be explored too if you’re not too scared. We can cast a spell to breathe underwater.” Casting the bubble head charm on Malfoy and herself, she smirked. 

 

“I’m not bloody scared of water.” He grumbled. 

  
  


Hermione stood at the edge, digging her toes into the cool soil and staring over the edge. There was something about the long drop from the cliff that made her forget the events that had forced her here in the first place. Just as quickly, she remembered, “Dad used to jump off of cliffs like this.” She muttered, not meeting Malfoy’s eyes. “Forced me to jump with him when I was too scared.” 

 

Draco looked at her, pulling his shirt over is head and throwing it on top of her dress. He sighed, peering down at her and pulling her hat from her head, leaving it to flutter to the ground. “Then I suppose we shouldn’t disappoint him.” He told her, a devilish glint in his eye. 

 

“What does that - Malfoy!” She shrieked, slapping her palm against his muscular back as he slung her over his shoulder. 

 

“Shite, Granger, that hurts.” He hissed. 

 

“Let me down!” 

 

Except he didn't, but he did shift her to where his arms were locked around her waist.

 

Actually, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him as he took a step off of the ledge as if there were something he did all of the time. “Malfoy, you son of a,” she snapped her mouth shut as they broke the surface of the water. She finally disentangled herself from him, her cheeks hot as she slowly unwrapped her legs from his waist. 

 

It wasn’t as if this were her first time jumping. So why exactly had her first instinct been to hold him so tightly she could have been choking him? Hermione rose above the surface first, pushing her hair out of her face and looking around. His head hadn’t broke the surface yet. The moment of brief panic was short lived as fingers wrapped around her ankle and yanked her under. 

 

She could make out the glow of blond hair beneath the water, and pushed him down with her hands mistakenly tugging at his hair. She couldn’t have told you how exactly she ended up mounting his shoulders during the struggle, just that when he managed to get his head above the water, Hermione was sitting on top of him. 

 

“You’re a petulant child, nearly flinging me off of a cliff before attempting to drown me.” She muttered. “Nevermind the fact that is was my idea.” Hermione laughed as he dumped her backwards, and into the clear waters. 

 

“Or the fact that we can breathe  _ underwater. _ ”

 

Hermione swam past him, diving under the water and towards the entrance of the cavern beneath the cliff. She motioned for him to follow, and to her dismay, he was a much faster swimmer than her. Draco reached the opening first, one that was surprisingly well lit from the other side. 

 

He pulled himself up onto the rock slab, water rolling off of him as he offered his hand to pull her up. Hermione tried to hold her swimsuit top in place as he pulled her up, before he stood and looked around the cavern. The light was coming from an opening at the top, one she imagined could have led to several accidents if this part of the island wasn’t exclusive to Witches and Wizards. 

 

“It’s pretty.” Hermione said, crossing her legs beneath her. “Someone wrote on the wall over there.” She pointed at the scratchy engraving. “One galleon says it’s some couples’ initials.” 

 

Rolling his eyes at her bet - she clearly already knew she was right -, he walked towards the far wall, bending down, wiping away the dirt. “One galleon to the Gryffindor. H plus R, have you been here with Weasley?” 

 

A snort. 

 

“It also says here ‘together forever’. Ten galleons says that’s false.” He shot back. 

 

“Negative,” she tsked. “you know you won’t ever heal if you’re always such a pessimist. There  _ are  _ still good parts about this life.” 

 

“What would you think is so good about this life, Granger?” 

 

“What would you think is so bad about it, Draco?” She asked in earnest, celebrating a silent victory when his eyebrows raised. “I think I’m lucky to be alive, and while I might use this summer to feel sorry for myself, I want to do something good for the Witches and Wizards left in it.” 

 

He shook his head, throwing pebbles against a wall. “You’ve always been noble thought. I’m a damned coward.” 

 

“I don’t believe that.” Her voice was hard. “I’ve never thought you were a coward. I thought you were a prat, or a pureblood elitist, but a coward? If you were, you would have told the truth at Easter. If only to put your family back in Voldemort’s,” he flinched. “good graces. I haven’t forgotten how you switched sides.” 

 

“A move that is widely construed as my last attempt to escape punishment when it was clear the snake faced bastard was going to lose.” 

 

Hermione huffed. “And you say I’m insufferable! Is it really so hard to believe that underneath all of those layers - and  _ believe me _ , there are a lot of them, that you are a good person?” 

 

“Rather hard to believe when the golden girl of Gryffindor is sitting there telling me I’m a good person when I stood there while she was tortured in my home.” 

 

Hermione sprung to her feet, her eyes narrowing. “And just what could you have done, Malfoy?” She yelled, holding her arm out. The glamour was still in place, but just the sight of her forearm was enough to make his eyes harden. “Would you have rather you’d saved me?” She spat, storming up to him. 

 

“I would have rather I’d been someone I could stand to be for the rest of my life.” He bit out.

 

Her eyes softened. “If the last two weeks are any indication, I think you will continue to surprise me. Someone who is as awful as you pretend to be wouldn’t have approached me the first time, much less the next time after I threw a drink over you. I think you’re trying to make amends, and I think that’s rather admirable.” 

 

He snorted. “You’re delusional. This - ” Draco lifted her arm for her to see. The Dark Mark had always been a plain view, but she’d come to see it as something she now saw everyday, every moment that she spent with him. It had never bothered her until it was shoved into her face. “I can’t even tell you I regret taking this.” 

 

Hot tears sprang to her eyes, and she tried not to let her bottom lip tremble. “Something I’m sure you have your reasons, no matter what they are. They were not because you wanted to be a Death Eater though.” 

 

“How would you know how I feel about any of this?” He growled. 

 

“Because!” She cried, removing the glamour. “Any Death Eater who wanted to eradicate Muggleborns wouldn’t wince every time they saw this fucking scar on my arm.” From the moment the first tear slid down her cheek, his eyes widened. She gave a shrug. “You’re not the worst person I’ve ever known, Malfoy. Gods, isn’t that a twist?” 

 

“Granger,” he reached for her but she slipped back into the water. “Hermione, come on, we’ve hardly spent anytime here.” 

 

It was hard to ignore that this was the first time he’d ever called her by her given name, but she didn’t bother looking back. “I’ll come back on my own sometime then. I’m going back to my hotel room, Malfoy.” 

 


	6. Chapter Five

**_“Her eyes held all the madness of new love.”_ **

**_-Atticus_ **

**Chapter Five**

* * *

  
  
  


_ June 14, 1998, 6 P.M _

_ De Novo Cafe _

_ Mykonos _

 

By the time Draco had gotten back to the cliff where they had dropped their things, Granger and her belongings were gone. She’d left his wand for him, wrapped inside of his shirt that he pulled over his head in a fit of anger. 

 

Just who did she think she was to lecture him on his own morality? He’d been a heartless bastard, one that certainly didn’t need false admiration from the know it all swot that he’d found himself spending all of his time with. Mother would have told him he was far too brash on the girl, and she would have asked calmly, just what in the world did he hope to accomplish by bringing up her time in his home. 

 

Something that he imagined had been the worst moments of her life as she sat there, writhing on the floor with blood seeping from her arm. Well, truthfully, he’d accomplished exactly what he set out to do: preventing her from getting too close. It had happened sporadically, their ‘coupling’, or friendship, or whatever it could be called. Granger was soft, only one layer standing between her thin skin and her incredibly fragile heart. 

 

No, he wasn’t someone who had miraculously changed his selfish nature at all. Everything in him screamed to not let her walk away because this was what had made his self imposed exile bearable. What the fuck did he care if her friends found out she was spending all of this time with an ex Death Eater? No matter how valiantly Potter had stood for his defense, it wouldn’t do for his best friend to be around Malfoy. 

 

It had been his own mistake to think he should make decisions for her. Seeing whiskey colored eyes well with tears until the first one slipped down her cheek had hit him in the gut. As she hid her arm that she never concealed from prying eyes, and he was slapped with the realization that this idiot thought he was ashamed of her. 

  
  


It was enough to make him storm into the cafe she frequented, slamming the glass door open hard enough that the bell above it broke and he just held up a hand to the owner. “Whatever is costs, I’m going to replace it, but I have to deal with her first.” All of the acid in his voice was centered on the word  _ her.  _

 

“Morgana’s left tit, Malfoy!” She exclaimed as he stalked towards her. “Just leave me alone to read my book in peace like I wanted to the day I agreed to this farce!” 

 

He rolled his eyes, hauling her to her feet and pressing her to his chest. “I’ve  _ really, really  _ had enough of you storming away from me.” He snarled, and with one movement of his wand, they were apparating. He wouldn’t pretend that he didn’t like the feeling of her curves settled against him, or that he’d had to imagine McGonagall naked when her long legs had wrapped around his waist earlier. 

 

They landed on yet another cliff, and she looked like she was going to push him off of this one instead. “Oh, where the fuck are we now?” She grumbled, her hands smacking her to sides in frustration, still clenching her book in one. “Do you know how long it takes me to read a novel, Malfoy?” She waved the book in his face. “A day at the most! I have been here for two weeks and I’ve barely put a dent in this one because I’ve been carted all over this damn island by you!” Her breathing was shallow, her breasts rising and falling with each word. 

 

“Yeah,” he growled, gripping her by the shoulders. “And you’ve had a bloody brilliant time with me, haven’t you? We’ve been all over the fucking island, which by the way, isn’t big enough for an entire summer, and you mean to tell me you’d rather read about this  _ Harper _ fucking this fair maiden against a wall?” 

 

“It was a sofa if you’d like to get into semantics.” Hermione said calmly, blinking. “I’m not sure why my reading material bothers you so much, but -” 

 

“Have you always been this fucking irritating?” He breathed. 

 

“You’ve hardly ever spoken to me, but yes Ron has told me I’m irritating on several occasions.” Hermione replied. “What did you drag me out to the middle of nowhere for?” 

 

“I told you we had plans, but there were simple ones.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You pointed this out to me last week, and I heard it was a good place to see stars at night. And I assumed you’d like girly shite like that.” He admitted quietly, pointing over his shoulder at the lighthouse. 

 

Her pale pink lips parted. “Merlin,” she gasped, slapping her book against his chest and rushing forward. “it’s hard to stay angry with you when you turn around and do things like this.” She called, her eyes travelling up the length of the tower. 

 

The walls were a bit decrepit, the paint peeling off of the sides, but it was a wonderful show of history. The real allure came from the way the sunset over the waters she’d come to love, and the way the cliff dropped sharply. Hermione had seen some of the photos of the spot, completed by stunning waves crashing against the jagged rocks below. They hadn’t done the spot justice at all. 

 

“Just sit down, Granger. You know my company hasn’t been bad since we ran into each other.” Draco told her, and he motioned towards a blanket settled against the grass. “Look, I planned this, so if you could wait to ditch me until tomorrow that would be great.” 

 

“And what will you do if I stay?” Hermione asked, smoothing her tangled hair down, plucking a hair tie from her wrist. “You were a real arse earlier today, Malfoy. I didn’t mean to anger you. I don’t think I said anything deserving of it.” 

 

He looked away from her, digging the toe of his shoe into the grass. “What do you want from me? An apology?” 

 

“Only if you mean it, and I don’t expect you to apologize for anything. I wish you’d seen it from my side, that I truly meant what I said,” she shrugged. “I suppose I can’t change your opinion of yourself. That’s how it goes with everyone. You could never make me see myself differently either.” 

 

“What is there to criticize about you?” He wrinkled his nose, watching with silent delight as she sat down on the blanket, crossing her legs. They were still a bit burnt and she refused to cast a simple healing charm, claiming it would reverse her tan as well. 

 

Who bloody cares? 

 

Hermione just looked at him strangely, one eyebrow arched. “You can’t think of a  _ single  _ thing about me you would criticize? I find that incredibly hard to believe.” 

 

He snorted, taking a seat next to her. His movements were not as graceful as hers - what a crock, but something about her managed to put him on edge -, and he nearly fell on her. “You could do with some beauty charms for that hair of yours. It looks like it might reach out and choke me.” 

 

She laughed. “Perhaps I should learn them from you since you’ve clearly spent most of your time in front of a mirror.” 

 

“You’re so rude to me.” He sighed in mock disappointment. “I think I know what you want,” 

 

“Oh, please, read my mind, Malfoy. Did you buy into that rubbish that was Divination?” 

 

“Fucking hardly, no matter how hard I tried to predict Potter and Weasley’s death in my tea leaves it never happened.” 

 

“What about me?” She asked, the side of her lip curving up. 

 

“What do you mean about you?” Draco pulled at a bit of grass on the side of the blanket. “Oh, in my leaves? I never thought about wanting to see your death, I guess.” He looked as if this were brand new information, like he’d never even considered it. “Now this is the first time I’m admitting this out loud, but this might just be sincerity,” 

 

She broke into giggles, her hand flying to her heart. “Be still my beating heart. Godric, Malfoy is being sincere?  _ To me? _ ” 

 

He rolled his eyes, reaching up to flick her on the forehead. “You’re a pain in my arse. As I was saying, I never lumped you in with those two. You were always there with them, but it seemed as if you were the mother more than their friend, doting on them all of the time.” 

 

Hermione swallowed, “Yes, well, that might be why my affection for Ron was misplaced then. I’m not sure, I spent our entire time at Hogwarts believing Ron Weasley was it.” 

 

Draco snorted. “Clearly, your standards should have been set higher.” 

 

“Draco,” she tutted, waving her finger in his face. “You shouldn’t be so cruel. Ron is a kind person, a good friend, and he is still my best friend. It wasn’t easy to accept that he wasn’t meant to be mine, but I would rather have him as my friend than to lose him. You don’t get along with him, and I doubt you ever will, but don’t make the mistake in thinking he hurt me intentionally.” 

 

“I don’t know. From what you’ve told me about your choice to testify in my trial, that’s what pushed him,” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “Of course it seems that way.” She stressed. “It was a great big thing,  _ Lovers Found During the War, Turned to Enemies,  _ complete nonsense, all of it. It might have been the catalyst for us to realize we weren’t compatible, but it would have come regardless. Ron and I have different views, on many things.” 

 

“Like what?” 

 

She bit her lip, looking all too surprised that he would even ask. She didn’t look at all prepared to answer that. “A woman’s role,” she began. “Molly is the best housewife I’ve ever seen in my life, and that’s what she wants to be. I don’t want to be a housewife though. I want to continue working my arse off, versus getting married, and popping out the generation of Hogwarts immediately. There’s not shame in it, but that’s nothing like what I would want.” 

 

“To be fair, I couldn’t see you a housewife.” Draco told her. “Or married after graduation, especially to Weasley.” 

 

“Stop being so rude about him,” Hermione swatted his hand. “Him and I are the opposites in most things.” 

 

“Intelligence being at the top of that list. He’s at the very bottom.” He snorted. “All right, all right,” he defended when she reached out to smack him. “Weasley is loyal, I’ll give him that.” 

 

Hermione was quiet. “He is, but the war was hard on all of us. You heard about the horcruxes, didn’t you?” 

 

He shuddered. “Nasty little trinkets, but yes. There was no way the Ministry could have kept the lid on that.” 

 

“While we were spending the majority of the year in the fucking forest, we took turns wearing Salazar Slytherin’s necklace around our necks. That part,” she sighed heavily, “did not make it into the papers.” 

 

Draco looked horrified. “You wore a bloody horcrux?” 

 

She nodded. “It was as awful as you would expect, but Ron left us in the Forest of Dean. The locket...it would make you believe lies. Knowing that still didn’t prepare me for the fact that Ron believed Harry and I were together.” 

 

He couldn’t believe her words. “He left you?” 

 

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I think that’s what I just said. He came back after three weeks, and I nearly hexed him into another century.” Hermione didn’t look at him even as he drew his wand and cast a spell, a wicker basket settling in front of them. “Did you plan for a picnic?” 

 

“No,” he grumbled. “I planned for us to bring dinner with us, but you were being a total bitch, and I needed several hours before I could even see you without strangling you.” 

 

“You were still furious. You yelled at me, and the cafe owner must have thought you were dragging me off to murder me in private.” 

 

“Now that’s an idea.” Draco mused. “Eat the fucking sandwich, Granger.” 

 

“We can’t eat in silence.” She murmured, shifting to sit on her knees and open the basket. “I hate the silence. It gives way to my thoughts.” Hermione tossed him a bottle of water, surprise fleeting across her face before thinking someone must have packed this for him. 

 

“No, there’s Firewhiskey for me in that, chilled thankfully.” He told her, levitating it from the basket. “What’s the look for? You’re not the only one who can do non verbal magic.” 

 

Hermione handed him a sandwich. “I didn’t say anything.” She tucked her legs beneath her. “Pick something to talk about.” 

 

Draco muttered under his breath. “I don’t fucking know, what do you want to talk about?” 

 

Her reply came all too quickly. Clearly she’d already been thinking it as she blurted, “You?” It came as a question. 

 

“Bugger,” he hissed. “what on earth would you want to know about me?” 

 

“Anything, really. We’ve spent so much time together, isn’t it strange to not know more about the other?” 

 

Draco held up his fingers, ticking one off as he went. “I know several things about you, Granger: you can’t hold you booze for shit, you’re almost dying for that Adrian to make a move, you’re the physical personification of Gryffindor -”

 

“All of those are things that aren’t important, not really. I consider you a friend - sort of. It’s still strange given all of the experiences I’ve had with you in the last seven years. I don’t know your favorite color, or what you enjoy doing. Yet I know if I ask you, you will give me the stereotypical answers of green, and you’ll tell me your hobbies consist of chasing birds.” 

 

“And how would you know those are false? Maybe I’m not so interesting as you’ve made me out to be, which the only reason you think that is because girls like ‘bad boys’, or whatever the fuck Blaise says.” 

 

She snorted. “Draco, if you were so interested in chasing birds, taking them up to your room so you could get into their knickers, you would have stayed at Paradise Beach. The women were nude, gorgeous, but you didn’t even look their way.”   

 

“It would impolite.” 

 

She howled with laughter, leaning backwards as she crossed her legs beneath her dress. “Like you have ever cared about being impolite. If you did want them, you would be flirting with girls at the pubs, but you don’t. To be completely honest, I don’t think you’ve spent time with any girl besides me since the summer began.” 

 

“You’ve caught me, Granger.” He deadpanned. “I’m hopelessly in love you, so just save me the trouble of wooing you and marry me. I’ll bet we could be halfway around the world on a honeymoon for the troublesome twosome found out.” 

 

Even if she didn’t care, her cheeks heated up. “You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” Hermione grumbled. 

 

“I wasn’t attempting to be funny. You just make it so easy to bring a blush to your cheeks. There you are, that’s my hobby, making you blush.” 

 

She didn’t point out that he was damn good at it if that was the truth. “My favorite color is blue.” She told him. 

 

“I do enjoy dark green, but I would say dark blue.” He replied. “Favorite animal?” 

 

She smiled. “Otters.” Hermione drew her wand from a small sheathe on the outside of her hip. A slit had been manufactured into the dress for her to reach in and grab it. “Watch,” she winked at him.  _ “Expecto Patronum.”  _

 

Draco watched, his gray eyes widening as a wispy otter emerged from the tip of her wand. It circled them, as if the little creature’s purpose was to make her smile. He noticed how her eyes lit up, her hands clapping together as she giggled, her hair tumbling from it’s bun as she looked around. 

 

His mouth was dry as the otter vanished, leaving them suspended in the darkness once again. “Harry taught all of us in Dumbledore’s Army to cast a patronus. It was valuable in the war.” 

 

He murmured, “It seems like it’s valuable now. You’ll laugh at me, but my favorite animal has always been a dragon. It started when I was a child, Mother called me her dragon, and she still does.” 

 

She smiled. “Dragon,” Hermione mused. “That seems very fitting, I think.” 

 

“Is that an insult?” 

 

Hermione didn’t answer that part, choosing to skip over to her next question. “Why Mykonos?” 

 

Draco took a swig from the bottle of firewhiskey in his hand before laying back, balling up his light jacket and laying back on it, his head propped up while he looked at Granger. “We used to own a property here. Ministry seized it with a good chunk of the Malfoy fortune.”

 

“Where was it?” 

 

“Used to be on the beach not too far from the hotel. I burned it to the ground when I got here. Did you know that Muggles have some rather interesting methods to create fire? I can’t say I like the smell of gasoline, but,” he paused to take another drink. “wholly effective. Ruined something my father loved, and fucked over the Ministry all at the same time.” 

 

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m shocked that you would even think to use Muggle methods, so very unlike you. Do you think they realize it’s gone?” 

 

“I’m sure, but I doubt I will be hearing from them. They would have brought in curse breakers, and aurors - all very expensive resources, so the way I see it, all I did was help them. Tell me,” he tapped his finger against his chin. “your favorite thing about yourself. You can’t say your intelligence either, I mean physically.” 

 

“That’s an odd question, have you already drank too much?” 

 

“Do you know what you like most about yourself?” He asked her. “Have you ever given it any thought?”

 

“I don’t spend much of my time in front of a mirror, Malfoy, but nothing particularly stands out to me.” 

 

“What did Weasley like most about you?” 

 

“Is that a question you want an answer to?” She hedged, biting her lip. “He’s a hot blooded male, so it’s nothing -” 

 

“Nothing like he said something simple that would make you smile? I’m guessing he never told you that you were gorgeous, or stunning. He probably just said, ‘Oh, Mione, your cunt is so tight.’ Am I right?” 

 

Hermione was flustered, and she tugged at her collar. “Merlin, why do you have it out so badly for him? A footnote, please never call me Mione again. I hate that name. And no, you’re wrong.” 

 

“If the two of you have fucked, I would be insulted if I were you then.” He pointed at her before taking another drink. “And yes, do answer. I’m curious. You wanted to get to know me. Well, this is me.” Draco muttered, motioning down the length of his body. 

 

“Right,” she snorted. “Crass, crude, and vulgar.” 

 

“If you’re looking for adjectives, I could help with that. Devilishly handsome, can charm you giving me your knickers -” 

 

“Those  _ aren’t  _ adjectives, you prat. They’re explanations of yourself.” She spluttered. 

 

He smirked, his lips pale behind the spout of his bottle. “So you agree that I could charm you into giving me your knickers?” 

 

She gaped at him. “That’s not what I said!” She shrieked, snatching her sandal right off of her foot and smacking him with it. “You’re such a prick. I never asked Ron what he liked most about me, but if his constant attention to them is anything to go by, it would have been my breasts.” 

 

Draco nodded. “Makes sense,” before she could ask anything, he added. “you know, you didn’t have an arse a few years ago. What the fuck happened?” 

 

She blinked. “I do squats every night. Keeps my legs in shape too.” 

 

“What are squats?” 

 

“I’m not going to show you. Against my better judgement, what is your favorite thing about yourself?” Hermione pointed her wand at a rock, transfiguring it into a pillow and laying beside him. She took the bottle from his hand and was grateful that he waited for her to swallow for supplying an answer. 

 

“My cock,” he said simply, taking the bottle back from her. At her indignant glare, he added, “you fucking asked, Granger.” 

 

“It was probably too much to ask to hope that you wouldn’t be so crass.” She rolled her eyes. “My favorite thing is my legs, or..” she bit her lip. “Or the thing that Ron liked, but if it’s all the same to you I’d rather move to tamer questions.” 

 

“Well, fuck,” he grumbled, smacking his palm against his forehead. “I was just about to ask you if you’d rather take dick from behind, or on your back.” 

 

“I hate you.” She muttered, but it was hard not to smile at his laughter. “Is this what you boys talk about in the Slytherin dorms?” 

 

“If you could have told yourself one thing before coming to Hogwarts, what would it have been?” He asked her, and her heart dropped. 

 

“I like to think that I would have told myself something noble, like there will be individuals who hate you for nothing you can control, and it’s your job to make them eat their words.” He nodded to that. “But if I’m well and truly honest, I think I would have told myself to find you and punch you sooner. Get you started on that humility earlier.” 

 

He snorted. “Classy there. That punch fucking hurt.” 

 

“You ran away with your tail tucked between your legs.” She muttered. “Plus you deserved it. You were awful to us.” 

 

“Okay,” he said, his voice sharp. “the only reason I ran away was because I couldn’t see because my eyes watered up.” 

 

“I made Draco Malfoy cry; they should really put that in my obiturary when I die.” She laughed, looking over at him. The night was quiet, save for the wind and her nearly constant laughter. “Is there anything you might have told yourself?” 

 

He swallowed. “Nothing that my pride would have allowed me to listen to.” His voice was thick, and she rolled onto her elbow to look at him curiously. “It’s nice to think I would have told that eleven year old, blond haired git that there was going to be a moment in my life that I had to choose, and the path Father had taught to me was wrong. It’s nice to think I would have accepted Dumbledore’s help, but I think we both know it would have never happened.”

 

“I thought the best of you in sixth year. Harry and Ron were both sure you were a Death Eater, and I didn’t think it was possible.” 

 

“You think the best in people, and that’s a great quality, but I worry it could get you killed. I was a Death Eater, a shitty one, but I did believe those ideals. Even in sixth year, I was the one who told you that you were going to be the next Mudblood attacked in our second year.” 

 

“You didn’t see yourself. It was clear from the outside that whatever you were going through, it was not your choice. When Harry nearly killed you in that bathroom, I was horrified. What business do children have in fighting a war? What does it say that we were forced to pick sides?” 

 

“It might hint that the Dark Lord was desperate to recruit followers, but that crazy bitch Bella was so insane that she amounted to several Death Eaters.” 

 

Hermione stared at the sky, dark above their heads. “I cried myself to sleep after the first day you called me Mudblood. I think I cried every time after because there’s nothing worse than being hated for something you cannot control. To be tortured because something thinks you are barely fucking human. To be called ‘Harry’s pet Mudblood.’ If Molly hadn’t killed Bellatrix, I think I would have done it myself.” 

 

Draco shot into a sitting position, looking down at her in shock. She didn’t look away from him, and even though her jaw was clenched, her eyes watered. “It takes so much to kill someone, Granger. You have no way to know you could. I don’t think you’re capable of it.” Because in all that he could believe, it was that she was so inherently good that he couldn’t imagine witnessing that dreaded green light shoot out from the tip of her wand. 

 

She blinked, slowly. “Draco, this war fucked me up in ways I am unlikely to overcome. I understand that it must sound like I’m making light of murder, probably because you were forced to by Voldemort, but I’m not the girl you seem to remember. She’s fucking gone, and I would have cast the killing curse.” Her voice grew harder with each word to follow, and she blinked to hold back her tears. Her fingers clutched the soft fabric below them. 

 

“Okay.” He said softly. “Do you know what a revel is?” 

 

She glanced up at him, giving a sharp nod. “Were you forced to participate?” 

 

Draco winced, taking a long drink before handing it to her to hold as he landed clumsily back against what used to be his jacket. It seemed Granger had created a pillow while his eyes had been closed. “I fucking refused. The realization that I didn’t hate Muggles as much as I’d initially believed came with crushing guilt. Father imperio’d me so I would be forced to participate. It was all I could do to make everyone believe that I was acting as if I enjoyed it. While he shouted to me, it seemed like he were cheering for  me, but they were demands.” 

 

Hermione’s eyes were wide with horror as her lips parts. “Do you.. would you like to talk about it? I don’t want to pry, and I know you’re not the same as me so it might not help to talk about it.” 

 

“I had to rape a girl who looked a lot like you.” He said bitterly, remembering the girl who would have had a long life ahead of her. She’d had curly hair, though more tamed than Grangers, but her eyes.  “She was a Muggle, and since I wasn’t in control, I couldn’t cast a spell to make it hurt less. She had to lay there, and fucking take it, until she bit her own tongue off.” 

 

“Oh, my Gods, Draco, I -” 

 

“That wasn’t enough though. The Dark Lord was thrilled by how much I seemed to enjoy dragging screams from these women, how I made them pray for a  mercy that would never come. It continued, and continued, and I just wanted to fucking kill myself.” His last words were a whisper, barely coming from him. 

 

Hermione reached over, wrapping an arms around his neck awkwardly and hugging him. It was unexpected, but more comfortable then he wanted to admit. The feeling of her soft curves against him, and her lips by his ear as she hummed. Draco wrapped an arm around her waist, his fingers dipping into her hip. “You don’t have to comfort me,” he muttered. 

 

“I’d like to.” She whispered, tightening her hold. “It wasn’t you, you’re not a monster. You’re not a rapist, you’re not a murderer.” 

 

He chuckled, but it was raw. “How would you know I’m not a monster?” 

 

Her reply was weak, and it only made his grip on her tighter, as if he could console her at all. “Because I don’t dream of you.” 

 


	7. Chapter Six

**_"I believe very strongly that when it comes to desire, when it comes to attraction, that things are never black and white, things are very much shades of grey.”_ **

**_-Brian Molko_ **

**Chapter Six**

* * *

  


_June 16th, 1998. 4 P.M._

_Mykonos Bay Hotel_

_Mykonos_

 

The second letter from Harry was longer, and Jaxie had pecked away at her window until Hermione let her in. The little owl flew over to Draco, landing on the carpet and looking up at him curiously. Hermione muffled her laugh with the back of her hand when Jaxie hopped into his lap, snuggling into him.

 

“She seems to like you.” Hermione told him, climbing back onto her bed while he sat at the foot of it. “Hand me Harry’s letter, would you?”

 

With his back still to her, Draco handed it to her, stroking the top of Jaxie’s head with his index finger. “I’m not sure if she was told to wait for your reply, or if she just likes me.”

 

“Perhaps a bit of both.” Hermione replied, wiggling the wax seal until she ripped it off. The red seal landed flat against the carpet.

 

_Hermione,_

 

_Great Britain is dreadful without you._

 

_Though I suppose you don’t want to hear about how awful it is here. You’d probably tell me to look on the bright side of things, which you could do if you would floo call me. I know, I know. You told me not to harass you about this._

 

_I’ll tell you a bit of the good parts first. Ron is well. He’s put his energy into auror training, and if you were here I think you’d see him in a completely different light. Lavender is well, not anything like the bubbly blonde chit you hated in sixth year. I think you’d like her a bit more now; she’s eager to talk to you when you’re back because she heard about what you want to do for werewolves, giving them and other magical creatures better rights._

 

_She’s not a werewolf, but there are underlying lycanthrope traits that she carries. Or that’s what Ron said the healers at St. Mungo's told her. She’s asked me to pass along a profuse apology for the incident at the Burrow. She’d have wrote you herself, but she worried you’d burn it without reading it._

 

_The bad news, I told you I’d get to that, but in truth, I don’t know how to tell you. No one’s died, I promise you. It’s the sort of thing I’d rather tell you face to face since you’d know just what to say. Ron isn’t much help. He’s wrapped up in Lavender and he can’t exactly pick sides here._

 

_There’s nothing awful to say, just that you’re missed here. I think of you everyday, and what you could be going through. You said in your last letter that you’ve made an unlikely friend? I’m happy for you. Maybe you were right, and a summer abroad will do you some good._

 

She handed the letter to Malfoy at his request to read it. The part about Lavender Brown stuck with her, and the memories of Greyback chasing her was brought to the forefront of her mind. The narrow scar across her face had given away exactly who Ron had on his desk, but the memory of her boyfriend finding comfort with her didn’t bring the ire it had a few weeks prior.

 

“He seems to be laying it on thick about Brown. Do you think Weasley’s gotten serious about her?”

 

She laid on her stomach, reaching into the floor to grab her notebook from beneath the bed. She’d penned a journal entry last night. “Anything is possible. The likelihood of the two of them being engaged by the time I’m back is fairly high.” Because of course everyone who had survived the war was jumping into relationships, letting themselves be led by matter of the heart rather than logic. But was she really any different?

 

Draco leaned his head back against the wrinkled blanket to look up at her, his hand still petting the owl in his lap. “Does that make you angry?”

 

“No,” she admitted, uncapping her pen. “if she makes him happy, then I’m happy for the two of them. “Judging that Harry and Ginny will not be rushing into a marriage, Molly will be ecstatic. I thought I was going to off myself during the wedding plans for Bill and Fleur. I’m a bit worried about Harry though.”

 

“I don’t see why since he’s the boy who just won’t die.” He snorted as she smacked the back of his head. “Have a sense of humor, Granger.”

 

“He’s just as hurt as I am. More so even, and while Ron has found someone, I just wonder if Ginny is able to comfort him. Is he alone when he has nightmares like I am? It’s hard to know if my being away makes it harder on him.”

 

“You’re not his mother, Hermione. You can’t protect him from everything, and that especially includes what happens to him while he’s asleep.”

 

She didn’t point out how many bottles of Dreamless Sleep she’d left for him at Grimmauld Place. “I’m quite aware that he’s not my child, Malfoy.”

 

“So stop mothering him then! He’s been under the thumb of that red eyed bastard since he was born, and he’s still around. You miss him, but have you thought about whether this island is helping you heal as well?”

 

Hermione swallowed. It wasn’t a question she wanted to answer in front of him. The island was breathtaking, and had brought a part of her back. She’d spent the morning creating a list of all of the sights she wanted them to go, starring the ones that she especially wanted to photograph. It wasn’t the island that had filled the hollowness in her chest.

 

It was the smug boy sitting in her hotel room floor as if he’d always belonged there - beside her.

 

“I could still floo call him. I don’t have to cut all ties with home. I know that you haven’t. I bet you call your mother everyday.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Correction: Mother calls me everyday and if I don’t answer, she will come down here. And she will find us together. She won’t be upset, but make no mistake. It would be in every paper she could contact.”

 

“But why?”

 

He gritted his teeth. “She fucking adores you and I haven’t the slightest idea why.”

 

Hermione blinked twice before she giggled. “You’re right, I guess. The last thing I would want is for my friends to find out that way. It would look a bit odd, wouldn’t it?”

 

He shrugged. “All I’m saying is that if Weasley asked if we were shagging, I’d tell him I fucked you six ways from Sunday just to see how red his face can get.”

 

“You’re a menace.” Nevermind the way her cheeks caught fire.

 

_Harry,_

 

_I miss you all. I’m not angry with Ron anymore, and I’m happy that he’s found what he was looking for._

 

_I swear to you I would come home, but I might have found what I was looking for. I didn’t know I needed anything to help me heal, but I have smiled every day._

 

_I’ll call when I can._

 

_All my love, Hermione._

 

She folded the letter, sealed it and gave it to Jaxie. Draco let her go, watching her fly out of the window. “Was it not clear I wanted to read yours too?”

 

“I wasn’t going to let you.” Hermione told him. “Not this one.”

 

“You’ve let me read every letter even though I’m just curious.” He pointed out. “It’s none of my business in the first place, but I'm curious as to what you deemed for your eyes only.”

 

“What are we doing today?” Hermione asked, flopping back onto the bed, letting her hair brush the carpet. “They’re apparently renting paddle boats today. It’s a Muggle thing, but it would be fun if you gave it a try.”

 

“That’s what you tell me about everything.”

* * *

  
_June 18, 1998. 8 P.M._

Scarpa Bar

Mykonos

Ever since they had set foot in the bar, Malfoy had been teasing her for the blush that adorned her cheeks each time Adrian looked her way. It had been nearly two weeks, she couldn’t remember as her days seemed to be blurring together at this point, since had had seen the olive skinned Wizard.

 

Still his face lit up when she made her way to the bar and rested her forearms on the glass counter. The bracelets on her wrists jingled with each movement, and a random blonde Witch nearly knocked her over. “How are you?” Hermione yelled over the booming music.

 

“I’ve been good, but tonight is already looking better.” He smiled, and Hermione elbowed Draco between the ribs when he gagged. “I thought you’d up and gone home.”

 

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m, well we actually, are staying for the duration of the summer. It’s not that great in Britain right now. What would you recommend?”

 

His smile widened. “I’ll make you something. What would you like?” Adrian nodded to Malfoy.

 

Draco waved him off with an easy response, “Just firewhiskey, none of that fruity shite you’re serving behind that bar.”

 

Hermione glared at him. “Excuse you, I happen to enjoy those fruity drinks. Your booze doesn’t have to feel like it’s burning your insides, you know.”

 

Malfoy smirked, catching the glass that was slid to him with an open palm. “You also happen to fancy the bartender serving them, so I think you’re biased. Also, if it’s not burning a path down your throat, is it really working?” He stepped down from his seat. “I’ll be somewhere. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

She missed the bitter bite his tone held. “I apologize, he’s still not great around others it would seem.”

 

“It _seems_ like he’s not great with sharing.” Adrian told her, placing a mixed drink in front of her. It looked delicious, a light pink with a straw poking out from the top. “Have the two of you gone from friends to..?”

 

Hermione blinked three times before she understood. “Merlin, no.” She laughed. “It’s sort of strange since he’s the last person I expected to run into here, but we’ve become friends. I think. It’s an odd situation, but he’s enjoyable to be around, who would have thought?” She took a sip of her drink. “What is this? It’s delicious.”

 

He rested his elbows on the counter, leaning towards her with a smug smirk on his face. He didn’t wear it quite as well as her blond companion. “It’s called sex on the beach. It’s a Muggle drink, and a very popular one at that.”

 

“Oh.” Hermione said quietly. “It tastes good.”

 

His face was crestfallen at her reaction. It hadn’t been her intention, but the forwardness of it all threw her off. “Ah,” he began, and it definitely sounded like an apology.

 

One he didn’t owe her at all. “Don’t apologize.” Hermione told him.

 

“I thought I misread you.” He spoke quietly, so no other patrons would hear them. “Putting the awkwardness of that behind us, would you like to go somewhere with me tonight? The beach is breathtaking at night.”

 

Hermione nodded with a smile, but thought to herself how she already knew how beautiful the island was. She was well on her way to exploring every inch of it with Draco. It felt as if lead had formed in her stomach. “That sounds nice, what time?”

 

“I leave at eleven. If you’d like to go get ready we can meet back here.” He said, reaching below the bar to grab a shot glass.

* * *

  
  


Malfoy sat at the foot of her bed, a scowl twisting his features. The audacity of Granger to ask him if he minded her leaving him for a few hours while she went out on a bloody date. Fuck no, why would he?

 

His surly response hadn’t gone over so well with the curly haired witch, whose bottom lip trembled no matter how she tried to hide it. Followed by a brisk apology from him, he found himself sitting in her hotel room while she dug clothes out from her closet. He wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to help her choose her attire for this date, the word sounded just as disgusting in his head. Oh, but he did know why. He didn’t particularly want to admit it though.

 

The fact of it was that if Granger was going out with the arsehole from the bar that undressed her with his eyes, Draco was going to make sure she looked fucking awful for him. It brought all kinds of realizations, the kind he wasn’t going to ponder right now.

 

No, right now he had a perfect view of her arse while she was bent over in her closet fussing over shoes. He leaned back, bracing himself on his elbows. Tilting his head to the side, he thought he ought to be a gentleman and tell her that her dress had ridden up, but he enjoyed the sight of dark maroon knickers against her pale skin.

 

She’d look divine in jewel tone greens.

 

“Let me get one thing straight though,” he started. “he told you to go get ready? Did he not think what you were wearing was good enough?”

 

Her shoulders stiffened for a moment before she pulled another hanger down. “I don’t know, Malfoy. I didn’t read into it that much. Certainly not enough to believe he was telling me I was ugly.”

 

“You’re not though. Ugly, I mean. A bit bossy, and bitchy, but you’re not bad to look at.” He replied, kicking his shoes off. “You should wear a pair of shorts, it will be hot out.” He bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. He’d seen how her dresses, any of them, hugged her curves, and a pair of shorts made her look more like a twelve year old boy.

 

“I’m not dressing up for him, Malfoy. I doubt anything is going to come of it, but it would be impolite to reject him. Given the way I’ve been flirting with him too, it’s only fair to give him a chance, right?”

 

He wanted to tell her she should fucking stay here and go for a midnight swim with him instead, revisit the cliff she’d stormed off from. Or maybe visit some of the spots they hadn’t been yet, but he didn’t. Not in so many words. “If you know it’s a waste of time, you should blow him off. My company is more enjoyable. It’s like talking to a brick wall with him.”

 

“You don’t even know him.” She defended, slipping her shoes off, and facing him. “You’ve met him maybe twice, Malfoy.”

 

“And yet I still know that I would rather talk to any number of Weasley’s than to him.” He looked away from her, away from the messy curls falling into her face, and stared at the wall. “Which is saying something.”

 

“You’re laying it on thick, Draco. If I didn’t know any better, I would think what he said about you was correct.” Hermione padded across the room, pushing his feet out of her way to pull her suitcase out from under the bed.

 

There was no use in denying that she grabbed a new knickers set - this one lacy, see through, and _dark green_ \- that gave her the impression she was begging to be fucked. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to coax her onto the bed with him and let him between her legs.

 

“What the fuck did he say about me?” He hissed, coming back to what mattered at the moment.

 

She paused by the bathroom door, a pair of black shorts, a tshirt, and her knickers slung over her forearm. “He asked me if the two of us were together now. Adrian thought you were jealous because you were glaring at him from across the room.” Hermione bit her lip, showing how hesitant she was to tell him at all, but an image flashed through his mind where he was the one biting down on her bottom lip.

 

The fantasy did nothing to quell his anger, and his trousers tightened around his cock. “I was glaring at him because he’s a fucking prat, Granger.”

 

She gave a small shrug of her shoulders, and closed the bathroom door behind her

 

He should have denied it, but he hadn’t.

 

And she was too brilliant to miss that.

* * *

  
_June 18, 1998. 11:30 P.M._

_Mykonos Bay Hotel_

_Mykonos_

  


Draco had returned to his own room immediately after she left, just in time for the floo to roar to life. “Mother,” he snapped, falling to sit on his one bed. His was less comfortable than Granger’s. “it’s eleven o'clock at night.”

 

“I’m aware of what time it is, Draco. That’s no way to treat your mother. What has you so upset?” Narcissa’s green tinted face stared at him, one eyebrow arched as it always was when she didn’t want to hear a lie from him.

 

“I’m not upset.” He lied between gritted teeth. “I’ve just had a long night.”

 

She shook her head. “Now, Draco, why would you lie to your own mother? We speak everyday and your mood had improved significantly since your arrival in Greece. An influence I can only assume came from a pretty Witch that’s caught your eye.”

 

His eyes widened, and he prepared to shut the floo down in case you tried to come through. “That’s ridiculous. The last thing I’m doing is chasing birds down here. I was a Death Eater, and half of the people here are still afraid of me. Even when I’ve been cleared through trials.”

 

Narcissa smiled. “What has she done that’s got you so upset?”

 

He sighed. “I’m not seeing anyone, Mother. Yes, I’ve made a friend here, but you already knew that. Yes, she’s a woman, one I knew before the war, but that’s all we are.” He insisted.

 

“Are you so sure about that? I can only imagine that’s because you haven’t made a move towards her.” She tapped her fingers against her chin. “Again, I can only assume, but I’m sure I’m correct in the fact that the pair of you are closer than friends would be.”

 

“She’s grieving. She would latch onto anyone who was here.”

 

Andromeda passed behind her. “Draco, would you just tell her?” His aunt harped. “Where is she right now?”

 

“She’s on some date with a fucking bartender.” He growled, and a baby burst into tears in the background.

 

“And you just let her go?” His mother gasped. “Well, no wonder she’s out and about. You haven’t made anything clear to her!”

 

“What would you know about it, Mother? I don’t give a shite about who she wants to skip merrily along the beach with.” He jumped in his spot as a translucent otter raced across his bedroom, bounding onto his bed.

 

 _“Meet me at the lighthouse?”_ Hermione asked him, and his eyes widened.

 

Draco reached out, his fingers going through her patronus as is vanished. “I guess I have to leave now.” He told his mother.

 

“Was that a patronus?” She asked, but he’d already apparated out

* * *

 

_June 18, 1998._

_Lighthouse_

_Mykonos_

 

Hermione was sitting on the edge of the cliff, her legs hanging off of the side while the backs of her sandals scraped against the rocks. He apparated in behind her, right where they had fallen asleep days earlier. “Hey, Malfoy.”

 

He walked up to her side, his hands in his pockets while he gazed down at her. “Would you care to tell me why your date only lasted thirty minutes?”

 

She shrugged, rubbing her arms. “Well, if you really want to know, it ended with me casting a bat bogey hex and a jelly legs hex, so I don’t think I’ll be going back to Scarpa bar anytime soon.”

 

He snorted, bending down to take a seat next to her. “I’d love to hear all about why you did that.”

 

She crossed one leg over the other. “He thought that since I drank a drink called sex on the beach, I actually wanted to have sex on the beach with him. He was completely wrong, and tried to tell me I would like it if I just went along with it. It didn’t go so great for him.”  

 

He didn’t laugh. “Were you hurt?”

 

Hermione’s head snapped up to look at him, but she shook her head. “Not at all, he didn’t touch me even besides a kiss. I apparated here and sent a patronus. I just thought the view was too pretty to waste.”

 

“I thought something had gone wrong when you sent me a patronus.” He told her. “I was on a floo call with my mother,”

 

“I give it a week before she knows who that little otter came from. Will that bother you? I would understand.”

 

“What are you rambling about, Granger?” He asked her, leaning back on his hands. “What does it matter to me if Mother knows who I’m spending all of my time with?”

 

“I just meant..because of what she would assume, and that it will be that much sooner that it gets back to my friends. I didn’t think you would want to deal with that either.”

 

He was silent, and he debated whether, or not he was really willing to fuck all of this up just because he needed to know what it was like. “Would it be a problem for everyone back home to assume we’re together?”

 

Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “Hypothetically?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Hypothetically,” she stressed. “no, I wouldn’t care at all. If you’d asked me that question sooner, I would have been mortified, but now, I..” Hermione trailed off. “Harry and Ron would be furious, naturally, but I wouldn’t care. You told me how your mother is more tolerant of all things Muggle with your father in prison, but what would she think?” Her cheeks were flushed as he stared at her, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen.

 

If he didn’t kiss her, she might just fling herself at him. At least she’d know.

 

“She wouldn’t give a fuck, Granger. Hypothetically, of course.” He was leaning towards her, though she wasn’t sure he realized it.

 

It might have been her who had leaned in first. “Of course.” She murmured. “So, hypothetically, if we were together, we would,”

 

“If you say the word hypothetically one more fucking time, I swear to Merlin.” Draco snarled before cupping the nape of her neck and tugging her to him. His lips were feverish as he kissed her, his fingers knotting in her hair as he molded her to him.

 

Hermione gasped as his tongue traced her bottom lip, clutching his shirt. “Draco,” she whimpered just as he nibbled her bottom lip.

 

“Gods, that sounds so fucking sweet coming from your lips.” He murmured, his fingers trailing against her spine.

 

Hermione wasn’t completely sure how _this_ had blossomed within three weeks, but the warmth pooling in her belly told her exactly where it was going.

  



	8. Chapter Seven

**_“Have you ever met a person who at first glance you’re not attracted to, but then you talk and with every word, every smile, every laugh, they become more beautiful until you can’t believe there was a moment you didn’t think they were.”_ **

**_-Atticus_ **

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

 

_ June 23, 1998. 8:30 A.M. _

_ Hermione’s Hotel Room _

_ Mykonos _

 

He woke her up by letting himself into her room, and ripping the blankets off of her. “Granger, get your lazy arse out of bed.” 

 

She groaned, flinging her arm across her face and turning into her pillow. “Go away, Malfoy. Let me sleep in.” She shot him an obscene gesture before snuggling back into the sheets. 

 

“You’re insufferable. You’ve slept nearly ten hours, maybe even twelve. We have plans today, and you need to get your arse,” he pulled the sheet from the corners of the bed. “Out of bed. So I’ll count to three, and you’d better be on your way to the bathroom to change.” 

 

“God, become someone’s girlfriend and all of a sudden they become your boss.” She hissed. “Go hang out at a nude beach or something, and leave me alone.” 

 

He snorted. “The only one I would be interested in seeing at a nude beach would be you unfortunately so,” Draco gathered the bunched sheets in his hands. “one, two, three -” he made his way around the bed, the sheet nearly covering her head before he ripped it forward. 

 

She tumbled into the floor at his feet with a groan. “You’re such a prat.” She muttered before cocooning herself in the sheets. “Let me sleep.” 

 

Sighing, he made his way into her bathroom and pulled a bucket out from under the sink. Draco filled the bucket, taking a good look in the mirror while he was at it. The bags under his eyes weren’t as pronounced anymore, and there was a glint in his eye. Probably because of the damned Witch who had already fallen back asleep in her bedroom floor. 

 

It felt as if he’d been around her for longer than three weeks. What had started as a welcome distraction, and it had been that  - getting her riled up became a hobby, and his insults quickly lost their venom. 

 

He’d always thought she was more than a bookworm that holed herself in the Hogwarts library. It was a fact that she’d been the brains of the Potter-Saves-the-World operation. The scarred twat would have died without her, and that Weasley most certainly would have. Though Draco wasn’t so sure how he hadn’t perished when he left his two friends in the forest. 

 

Like her house, she was loyal to a fault, and she’d chosen to extend an olive branch to him. 

 

She was snoring softly when he stepped back into the room, rays of sunlight slipping between her curtains, and falling across her sleeping figure. He didn’t understand why she didn’t charm the dark blue drapes to block the light if she liked to sleep in this much, but he had the inkling she just liked to leave things the way she was used to. 

 

Well, the way she had been used to before she could use magic. 

 

Without another warning, he pulled the sheets from her, and tossed the bucket of water over her. It had  _ not  _ been his intention to throw the sodding bucket as well, least of all hit her in the head with it, but he couldn’t control his laughter. 

 

Hermione glared at him, sitting up, while placing her hands flat against the carpet. “You are such an arse.” She muttered. “And an awful boyfriend, to boot!” Granger was grinning up at him. 

 

His mouth dried when he saw how the jersey clung to her, revealing that she clearly was not wearing a bra. Her nipples stiffened against the fabric, the pretty, dusky color showing through the white fabric. Just as quickly, his eyes narrowed. “Is that a Gryffindor Quidditch jersey?” 

 

She nodded, her unruly mop of curls swaying with the movement. Falling over her shoulders and reaching just enough to cover his obsession, he nearly growled. “Yes, it used to be Ron’s, but he had so many that I just never gave this one back.” 

 

It wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear from her. “You’re wearing something of Weasley’s to bed?” His eyebrows knit together. 

 

“Um, I suppose so. It’s long, and it’s very comfortable to sleep in. Women’s clothing are more restricting, and - are you  _ jealous _ ?” Hermione’s head fell backwards, her hair slipping from her chest while she giggled. 

 

“I can’t say I’m pleased to see you in your ex boyfriend’s clothing.” He shrugged, offering her his hand to pull her up. “You could always make it up to me.”  Draco smirked. 

 

Her eyes widened at the implications. “How would I make it up to you? By wearing nothing at all?” 

 

He snorted. She’d guessed correctly, of course. “You’re the one who said it,” he paused, deciding it wouldn’t do to scare her off. “And I wouldn’t say no. In fact, I’d throw you back on that bed,” 

 

She flushed, looking down at her bare legs. 

 

“But what if I give you one of  _ my  _ quidditch jerseys, and we’ll just call it even.” He wasn’t prepared for the smile lit up the room. 

 

“I’d like that.” She beamed. “If you’re lucky I might let you see me put it on.” Hermione winked at him, sliding her arms around his waist. 

 

“Granger, you’re soaked. Now is not the time to hug me.” He scowled, trying to pry her off of him, but she wasn’t budging. Nor was the mischievous grin on her face. 

 

She hugged him tightly, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. “A little water won’t kill you, Malfoy. You’re not made of sugar.” Hermione tapped him on his nose. “In fact, you’re really not that sweet at all.” 

 

He scoffed. “If you want romance, I could ruin any relationship you have for the rest of your life.” Draco told her, cupping her arse and he was thrilled by the way her lips parted. “I didn’t take you much for lace.” 

 

Her blush trailed down her neck. “I don’t want you to give me romance, I want you to give me what you want to give me. If that’s romance, then fine, but what I really want is for you to be Draco. And for me to be Hermione so the pieces can fall where they will.” 

 

Words of how he’d like to give her everything, anything, were on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t fancy himself in love with this girl, but she’d gifted him a safe haven. Thoughts of the end of the summer had already started swirling in his brain, and it was clear that his dislike of it would only get worse. 

 

“Shite,” he murmured as he slipped on the carpet. He really should have kept his shoes on. It would have been comedic that they had landed on the bed, if it weren’t for the fact that his cock was painfully hard in his trousers. 

 

Hermione had been shifting, probably to move off of him, but he held her by her hips right there. Dragging her down carefully to kiss her slowly, his arms coming around her waist as her slender fingers traced his jaw. “I like this.” Hermione whispered, her thumb swiping across his stubble. “It makes you look reckless, a bit dangerous.” 

 

“You’re a fucking masochist, aren’t you? Haven’t you had enough danger in your life?” Draco couldn’t help but laugh, but it was nothing compared to laugh he choked on when she replied. 

 

“Maybe, but it’s not as if I’ve never ridden a dragon before.” Her smile was wicked as she rolled her hips against him. 

 

“For the love of Salazar, I’ll never be able to hear that nickname from my mother again.” He swatted her lightly on the arse. “Witch.” 

 

“Perceptive of you, Malfoy. I’ve only attended Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since I was eleven.” 

 

“If we don’t get out of this bed right now, we’ll be here all day.” He murmured into her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. It was vanilla, and he’d never liked the smell before. “You’ve destroyed my self control.” 

 

She snorted. “It’s your lucky day, Malfoy. My self control is excellent, and I will not be ripping your clothes off today. What we should do is take a nap.” 

 

“How dreadfully boring.” 

 

“I’d like to lay here with you.” She admitted without making eye contact. “The night we fell asleep at the lighthouse was the best night of sleep I’ve had since the War began. I usually have nightmares.” 

 

“And you didn’t?” He stared up her as she sat up, accidentally rubbing her cloth covered cunt against him once more. 

 

She shook her head. “The only difference was that you were there. I normally, well, I hate to be crass, but I think we’re well past the point of beating around the bush. Typically, I relive my time with Lestrange. It’s awful, of course it’s awful, and every single time, I wake up thinking she’s alive. Yet she’s not. She’s not going to reanimate, and I just,” 

 

He cut her off with a searing kiss, tangling his fingers in her hair. Only pulling away when her breathing was uneven and her lips were bruised, he nodded. “Then we’ll sleep, but I’ll be right back.” 

 

He apparated out of her room and into his, scrambling to turn his suitcase over. He grabbed the dark green jersey, and a pair of silk bottoms to sleep in. Hermione was sitting on her knees in the middle of her bed when he appeared back inside of her bedroom. “Put it on, Granger.” He tossed her the shirt with a smug smirk. 

 

She looked up at him, a small smile curving her lips. “Where are you going?”

 

“I was going to change in the bathroom to give you some privacy.” He told her, swallowing hard when she shook her head. “You don’t have to take your shirt off in front of me.” 

 

“I think you believe I’m a prude, Malfoy. I’m not. It probably is a bad idea, considering how all of this is new to us, but here I am wanting to do it anyway. So just change here. Besides, I didn’t say you could touch me.” 

 

His eyes narrowed, and he nodded. “Tease.” 

 

Hermione shrugged, grabbing the hem of her shirt with both hands. Tugging it over her head in one quick movement, she didn’t make eye contact with him. Her cheeks were bright, and he learned that her blush  _ did  _ go down to the tops of her breasts. 

 

He wanted to reach out and lay her back on the bed, to take one perky breast in his hand while his tongue caressed the other. “You’re stunning.” He managed, his voice ragged while he unbuttoned his trousers. After stepping into the bottoms he always slept in, he slipped his shirt off. “I don’t sleep with a shirt on.” 

 

“That’s a relief, it would be criminal to rob me of that sight.” She crawled backwards onto the bed, grabbing a blanket that had fallen off the side, and wasn’t soaked. 

 

He laid on the right side of her bed, stretching his arm out beneath her pillow and pulling her to him. “Perhaps I should take a moment to pray to the Gods that your hair won’t strangle me in my sleep.”

 

“Perhaps you should pray for new insults, not to mention I think you like my hair.” Hermione curled up in the curve of his body, laying her head on his chest. As if it was a rehearsed moment, one that she’d always done, she swung her legs over his. 

 

This was infinitely better than leaving her room for the beach, or any fucking sight this island had to offer. “Why would you think that?” His chest shook with laughter. 

 

“Because you’re always attempting to run your fingers through it, or every time you’ve kissed me thus far, you grab it. Also, do you like pulling my hair?” 

 

He paled. “What kind of question is that?” 

 

“Draco, it’s not exactly a secret that you’re a bit rough. Your reputation in Hogwarts did precede you a bit. It’s also a fact that boys tend to pull your hair if they like you.” 

 

He laughed, his chest shaking against her. “Are you bringing this up because you want me to pull your hair? Do  _ you  _ like it rough, Hermione?” 

 

“I think I might.” She said weakly. “I don’t know, it’s not as if I”m experienced. Just forget the whole conversation.” His fingers threaded themselves through her hair, pulling it to make her look up at him. 

 

Her eyes widened, her nails scraping against his chest in surprise. 

 

“Well?” He teased her. “Do you like having your hair pulled, Hermione?” 

 

She nodded slowly. “By you,” she added with a giggle. “Go to sleep.” Hermione found very quickly that he didn’t love having his nipples touched, and that he was ticklish. 

 

“We should just never leave this bed, Granger. I like you in my shirt and nothing else.” He smirked, tracing her spine with his fingers. 

 

She scoffed. “I’m wearing knickers as well.” 

 

“I could fix that by dragging them off of you with my teeth.” His pride swelled when her breathing grew ragged. 

 


	9. Chapter Eight

**_“He didn’t give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.”_ **

**_-Jenny Han, “We’ll Always Have Summer.”_ **

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

 

_ June 26th, 1998. 3:26 P.M. _

_ Mykonos Catamaran Sailing Tour _

_ Mykonos Island _

 

Try as she might, she couldn’t sneak a peek as to where were they were going. Another morning, one that had been preceded by one of the most fantastic weeks of her life, had come and gone. Her mornings mostly consisted of waking up before Draco, and lightly tickling his sides until he flipped her onto her back to snog her senseless. 

 

This morning hadn’t been any different. He chuckled at her disappointment as he pulled away and told her to go take a shower. One again,  _ they had plans.  _ She’d covered her laugh; Draco was more of a tourist than she was. 

 

Not to mention that she still hadn’t finished her novel. And quite possibly wouldn’t before the summer was over. 

 

With her towel wrapped around her, Hermione stepped out from the bathroom to find that he was gone. Draco left a sundress on her bed. Rolling her eyes at the obvious color choice - a forest green, she stepped into it and waved her wand to zip it up. 

 

He’d met her in the hallway, spinning her around and tying a blindfold over her eyes. And it wouldn’t budge no matter how she tried. 

 

The sound of rushing water was her only hint, but considering this was an island, it didn’t tell her much. She prepared for the possibility that he was about to jump from a cliff with her once more when he picked her up. 

 

The boat swayed beneath her feet as he set her back down, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her polaroid camera was heavy as it hung from the strap around her neck. “A boat?” She murmured to him, rubbing circles at the bottom of his back. 

 

“Be patient so you can enjoy the surprise, Granger.” He whispered back, and he tugged on the knot that fastened her blindfold. Malfoy stuffed it inside of his pocket, looking smug as she took in the sight around her. 

 

The boat had already set off, and they were the only ones on board. The sea surrounded her, the waters sparkling beneath the sun. “Did you buy a boat, Malfoy?” 

 

He snorted, ruffling her hair, and dragging her along to the front of the boat. He took the camera from her as she leaned over the metal railing so it wouldn’t fall into the ocean. “No, I did not buy a boat.” Draco didn’t  _ love  _ using the camera he’d bought her, in fact he still thought it was strange. However he knew that she grinned like a lovestruck fool everytime he took it from her and snapped a photograph of her. 

 

And he had to say that the moment where she braced her hands on the railing, and stood on the bottom one made a rather good photo. Her hair was blown back by a light breeze while her back was to him. 

 

“There are supposed to be ten other passengers on board.” Draco told her, sneaking up behind her and kissing her neck. He was delighted by the way she shivered against him. “They advertise a semi private tour that will take us to the Delos and Rinia islands. They provide snorkeling equipment for the Muggles who are on holiday, but we won’t need it.” 

 

“You mean we can dive to see the sights below us?” She asked. “That’s exciting.”

 

“There’s a full bar as well, and they’ll prepare dinner for us this evening. The entire tour generally lasts five to six hours, but we’re able to stay for as long as you want.” He nuzzled her neck, bending to press his lips along her bared shoulder. “You look stunning. I like this dress on you.” 

 

Hermione smiled. “I would hope so since you took it on yourself to buy it for me. I have plenty of dresses, Malfoy.” 

 

“I like the way this one..,” he trailed off, tugging the halter down slightly with a smirk. “fits you.” 

 

Hermione shook her head, adjusting the strap, and taking her camera from him. “I want a picture of the two of us.” She told him shyly.  _ “Wingardium Leviosa.”  _ She said clearly, the camera lifting up and she pushed it backwards through the air. 

 

“Why did you put your hair up?” He asked her, eyes flicking up to where her mass of curls had been bundled on top of her head. “Any particular reason?” She shook her head. Draco tugged the hair tie from her hair as gently as he could, but it was difficult. Her mane threatened to engulf it and while he was laughing uncontrollably, she was scolding him. 

 

The camera went off several times, no doubt because her concentration broke when the band broke and he tried to untangle her hair with his fingers.  _ “I said gently!”  _

 

“Well, maybe if you used just a few more beauty charms in the mornings.” He grumbled, pulling and hoping for the best. He vanished the strands that came out with it before she could notice he’d mistakenly pulled her hair out. “It would seem we’ve taken too many.” He tilted his head towards the polaroids that were not scattered out around the deck. 

 

“Well, you bought enough film to last several summers, so,” 

 

Before she could finish her thought, he pulled her close and kissed her. Her lips were soft, pliable under his own as she whimpered. Hermione had this intoxicating habit where she would cling to him, clutching his shirt while he knelt down to her height. 

 

The moment, that he would have preferred to continue until the first stop, was ruined by a door leading to the deck opening too loudly. Hermione jumped backwards, her cheeks flaming as she smoothed her hair down. She bent down to gather all of the photos before the wind could blow them away. 

 

“I’ll grab drinks for us.” He whispered in her ear. “It was just one of the crew members coming to ask if we wanted a late lunch. Though it looks like we scared him off.” 

 

Hermione motioned him to go on, and sat in one of the chair, kicking her sandals off and propping her feet on the railing. “Bring me anything, but firewhiskey. It’s disgusting.” Her nose wrinkled. “Just the smell of it,” 

 

“Princess.” He muttered, leaving her laying in the sun behind him. 

 

* * *

  
  


Hermione sipped on her drink, somehow finding herself to be sitting in Draco’s lap. “Just try it once, Granger.” He put the glass of firewhiskey in her hand, the dark contents rippling with each movement of the boat. “You should never smell before you drink.” 

 

She scoffed. “What if it’s poisonous?” 

 

He rolled his eyes. “Correction: you should never smell booze before you drink it. It just makes it worse. Have you ever tasted it?” She shook her head. “Care to make this interesting?” 

 

She groaned. “This sounds like an awful idea.” 

 

“For each drink we take, we ask the other a question. No lying either, Granger.” She shifted in his lap. He growled right under her ear. “Must you wiggle your arse so fucking much?” 

 

“I must.” She conceded. “How do I know you’re not lying to me either?” 

 

“They have veritaserum under their bar.” He told her, rubbing his fingers against her hips. “What do you say?” 

 

She sighed. “Get it, but remember that you brought this on yourself.” 

 

He grinned. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes as he lifted her from his lap eagerly, rushing towards the cabin on the boat. Looking around, she took in the sight of the waves rocking the vessels, the rich blue that seemed to go on forever. If she had her way, she’d might never return to Hogwarts. 

 

It was an unwelcome thought, one that she pushed away for when she was alone. It was incredibly easy to become attached, and Hermione wanted to put off her nagging questions for as long as she could. 

 

The war had made her cynical, less optimistic, and those were the words of her mother days before she was killed. She picked at her nails, which were worse for wear. She’d picked up her nasty childhood habit of chewing on them again, and they were bit down to the nub. 

 

Draco set a glass bottle, wrapping in a black label with a crystal lid on the table in front of her. He massaged her shoulders, a smirk on his face when her hand came up to cover his. “What are you thinking about that has you so tense?” 

 

She bit her lip, letting her head fall to the side, and peeking up at him. “Just lost in my thoughts, nothing I need to talk about.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “What kinds of questions are allowed?” 

 

Draco walked around her, kicking his shoes off and sitting on the metal table, twisting the faceted cap. “You can ask me whatever you like, Granger. I for one plan to ask you several things that will make you blush.” 

 

“Give me a sample question.” Hermione hid behind of curtain on her hair, a smile toying with her lips. “I’ll give you a sample answer if you do.” 

 

He snorted, pouring a shot and lifting the tiny glass in the air. “Alright, are you a virgin?” 

 

“I’m not, but I’ve only had sex twice.” She murmured, watching him tip the glass to his lips. “It wasn’t spectacular.” Hermione admitted, reaching out to take the other glass from the table. “How many girls have you fucked?” She grinned, swallowing the booze as quickly as she could. 

 

It burned a path down her throat. 

 

“Blimey, you’re not holding back, are you?” He grumbled, resting his arms across the tops of his knees. “I’ve had six girls in my bed.” 

 

“You say that like you’ve fucked six more in a broom closet.” She deadpanned, arching one eyebrow. 

 

“I have slept with six girls. I’ve done several other things, with other girls.” He clarified, a light pink rising in his cheeks. He grabbed his glass once more, holding up to her in a mock toast. “Do you have a favorite position?” 

 

She turned scarlett. “Oh, I’d really rather not,” she stammered. “Draco, it’s embarrassing for me.” Hermione whispered, her head whipping around to see if anyone else had come out.” 

 

“It’s just me, Granger.” he urged her, fingers splaying across her knee. “You know, if you take the shot, it might help.” 

 

She glared at him. “Um, I tried sixty-nine with well,  _ him _ , once.” Hermione whispered, unwilling to even say his name, or look at Draco. “It didn’t last long,” 

 

“Then how would you know it’s your favorite?” Draco asked her, tilting her head up by lifting her chin with one finger nestled underneath. “If it didn’t last long, I mean.” 

 

Hermione took the shot quickly, even though it wasn’t even her turn, and blurted an answer. An answer that was accompanied by vulgar language to give away just how nervous she was. “Most girls enjoy when someone eats their cunt, but I like to give as much as I take.” 

 

He was stunned, gray eyes widening as several scenarios played in his head. Tugging her from her chair, and slipping the halter dress that hugged her curves over her head. Maybe he’d rip it off of her, he didn’t really mind either way, as long as he could have her naked and on top of him so he could taste her. “Is that so?” His voice was ragged, and he didn’t miss the way she rubbed her thighs together. “Why didn’t it last long?” 

 

“Is that your question?” She challenged, bending forward to pour another drink for him. 

 

He swallowed it and nodded. “Tell me why. Did he not like it?” 

 

She picked at her nails once more. “I am apparently not great at it.” She begrudgingly admitted. “It’s not like I’d ever given a blowjob before.” 

 

He snorted, immediately followed by “I am not laughing at you, Granger.” 

 

“Reall? It sure sounds like you’re laughing at me.” She kicked his shin. “You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to have no idea what you’re doing.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re being melodramatic. Now, I wouldn’t know what it’s like to suck someone off, and be bad at it. Though I imagine if it tried, I would be fantastic. I was a virgin once, you know. And Pansy Parkinson bit my cock in fifth year..” He trailed off, a grin spreading across his lips as she giggled. 

 

“That’s awful!” 

 

“It was a complete accident, and she couldn’t help it. At the time she had a broken tooth,” he shrugged. “What is it?” 

 

Hermione stared at him, smiling. “I like how even if you can laugh about it, you don’t talk badly about it. The first thing Ron did was tell Harry how I didn’t know what to do even if he put it in my mouth.” 

 

Malfoy growled. “Weasley is a bit of a tosser, and too much of a gossip. No one sucks cock like Lavender Brown on the first try.” 

 

“Would you know that from a personal experience?” She asked, only to have a drink thrust in her face. It was getting easier to swallow the foul taste. 

 

He nodded. “We had a midnight romp in a cupboard by the Divination classroom. Something about a brooding man in her future according to the tea leaves.” He held a hand up. “I did not sleep with her before you ask.”

 

She looked a bit crestfallen. “It’s not so great to learn you’ve done anything with the girl Ron actually cheated on me with.” 

 

Draco pushed himself off of the table, kneeling in front of her, and parting her legs by placing his palms over her knees. “Granger,” he murmured. “in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have praised her ability to suck a bloke off, but I make no exageration when I say I couldn’t care less about her.” 

 

“I’m not jealous.” Hermione insisted, running her fingers through her hair. “I’m angry she’s better than me at something.” 

 

He sniggered. “Practice makes perfect - I’m kidding.” Draco winced when she swatted the top of his head. “Besides, I like you much more.” He kissed the inside of her thigh, right where her dress ended. “Weasley is a fucking idiot.” He sighed, laying his head in her lap. 

 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Malfoy.” She laughed, playing with his hair. “We weren’t compatible, sexually or otherwise. That’s okay.” 

 

“If he were smart he would have appreciated what he had in front of you. He had the privilege of taking your virginity -” 

 

“It was hardly a privilege,” she interrupted.

 

“And that means he had the chance to show you  _ every last fucking thing.”  _

 

His voice sent shivers down her spine, and the hair on her arms raised up. Swallowing nervously, she asked “What do you mean exactly?” 

 

“Is that your question?” He taunted, the pads of his fingers stroking the inside of her thigh. 

 

“Fuck the questions,” she managed uneasily. “I’d rather you show me anyway.” If the furniture wasn’t bolted down, her chair surely would have been knocked over as he nearly ripped her out of the chair, pulling her to straddle him as his back met the ledge of the table. 

 

“So fucking pretty,” he groaned, the tips of his fingers trailing up her sides. A subtle brush against her breasts caused her to arch against him. “Tell me what you want, Hermione.” 

 

She shivered, biting his bottom lip and rolling her hips against him. “I don’t know.” She whimpered. She’d known it would be nearly impossible to not rush into things. It didn’t feel like nearly a month since he came across her in a quiet cafe. It didn’t feel like it had been a week since he had kissed her beneath a lighthouse that he’d taken her to. 

 

None of this could be real. 

 

Hermione sighed, tearing at his shirt and pulling it over his head. “I told myself that I wouldn’t rush anything because it would be foolish to start ripping your clothes off.” She muttered, placing his palms against his chest, running one nail down his abs. “It was so fucking stupid. I never stood a chance.” 

 

“I’m not going to shag you,” he managed to say before she pressed her lips to his again. “not where I have to worry about someone interrupting us. I want you all to myself for that.” His hands fidgeted with the hem of her dress. “I know what you need.” 

 

She froze against him, “What would that be?” She was grinning, he could tell. 

 

“You’re too wound up, too fucking tense. You need to come. Have you had an orgasm?” Draco asked her, his question accented by slipping his hand under her dress to rub her clit through her knickers. She was still wearing lace. 

 

She nodded weakly. “I have.” Her tone was even weaker. “How would you, oh Draco,” she shuddered as he slid his hand beneath her knickers, rubbing her clit gently. “how would you make me come?” 

 

“Fucking Merlin, you are dripping. Is this what happens from just talking about it? I wonder what would happen if I fingered you.” He smirked as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. “How do you taste, Hermione?” 

 

“I wouldn’t know,” she gasped. 

 

“Can I take your dress off?” He asked her, only to receive a quick nod, followed by a  _ please. _ Draco reached around to slide the zipper down, and pulling it over her head. “You’re a fucking dirty girl, Granger. Why aren’t you wearing a bra?” His tongue slid against her pert tits, swiping over her nipple. 

 

“I charmed the dress. I hate wearing a bra, especially when I could just charm my clothing.” She told him, letting Draco move her to sit on the deck instead of his lap. 

 

His eyes were dark as they hungrily raked over her. Malfoy kissed up her stomach, tongue dipping into her belly button before moving up to her breasts once more, taking his time to gently stroke her nipple with his tongue while he worked the other with his fingers. 

 

Hermione writhed beneath him, hooking one leg around his hip. “Draco,” she moaned softly, her back arching off of the hard surface. If she scooted just a bit lower she’d be able to rub her pussy against his erection and gain the tiniest bit of relief. “Please.” In reality, she wasn’t sure what she was asking for beyond begging him to simply never stop. 

 

“Patience, princess.” He whispered into the skin between her breasts, capturing her wrists and holding them above her head. Draco gently pushed her leg down, gripping her hips while he pressed kisses down her stomach. Had he been thinking beyond right then, he probably would have thought to drag her knickers off of her with his teeth like he’d mentioned. 

 

He fucking forgot. All of his thoughts, his fantasies, the tricks to reduce her to a moaning mess escaped him when he pushed her knickers to the side. Rubbing her clit, he watched her head fall back, her chest arch as she trembled under him. “Fuck,” he groaned, slowly inserting one finger. 

 

She was snug around him as he lowered his mouth to her hairless, save for a small strip, cunt. Granger had definitely learned that from a book, or maybe the Patil twin she shared a dorm with at Hogwarts. And maybe, just maybe, if she’d kept her eyes open long enough to watch him, her reaction wouldn’t have been quite as strong. 

 

It would have been unfair to rob him of the shriek that escaped her, or the way her fingers grasped his hair, tugging him just a little closer. “Oh,” she whimpered, her legs drawing together. 

 

Taking a peek up at her, he watched her eyelids flutter shut as she whimpered, and watched her cup her tits, her thumbs swiping across her nipples. Almost as if she wanted to imitate his earlier movements. He wanted to pause, to tell her she tasted sublime, and that he would be happy to stay between her thighs for the rest of the summer - regardless of how cheesy the last bit would be. 

 

She wanted none of that though, groaning in protest when he even  _ attempted  _ to do anything that didn’t involve eating her out. “Oh, my God, you already talk all of the time.” Hermione told him. “Just - there, Draco.” She moaned loudly, pulling at her own curls, and leaving her breasts to bounce as he pulled her closer to him. 

 

Not that she saw it, but he rolled his eyes at her impatience. What else was new? 

 

Draco slid another finger between her folds, curling slightly inside of her. The pressure against her walls was nearly enough to make her come undone. “Granger,” he whispered. 

 

“Yes?” She breathed. 

 

Hermione’s body was light, pliable as he lifted her and sat her in her chair once more. “This boat is hardly comfortable.” He began with a stupid grin. 

 

“Like I give a single, solitary fuck.” She growled, crossing her arms over her breasts. “What if a member of the crew comes out?” 

 

“Then it will be their lucky day, but you weren’t worrying about that when I had you on the deck a minute ago.” She tugged him forward by his shoulders, kissing him roughly and tasting herself on his lips. “Spread your legs for me, Hermione.” He rasped. “Rest your legs on the armrests so I can see your pretty, pink pussy again.” 

 

Her nod was slow, her movements even slower as she hesitantly parted her legs. Draco took her by the hips, pulling her forward to where her arse rested on the edge of the seat. 

 

She didn’t know if she wanted to twine her fingers through his hair, or if she wanted to hold onto the chair. Each movement felt like forever. “Gods, that feels so good.” Hermione whined, his tongue moving against her sensitive. “I really don’t think I can take much more.” 

 

“You can take whatever I give you,” he growled. “because you love it.” 

 

It was a combination of the way he fingered her, which made her entire body tense up in anticipation, and the exact moment Draco sucked her clit, flicking his tongue against her, that wrenched the echoing scream from her. 

 

It was poor luck, and poor planning really, that the door leading from the cabin onto the deck slammed open. Followed by an uneasy “Is everything all right?” 

 

Hermione was mortified, attempting to draw her legs closer to her body. No matter, since her dress had been discarded in the middle of the deck. “Go away!” Draco shouted, bending with a smirk to press his tongue against her. “Have you ever come twice this quickly?” 

 

“Not possible,” she clicked her tongue. 

 

Hermione Granger had never been so happy to have been proven wrong. 

 


	10. Chapter Nine

**_“She didn’t want love. She wanted to be loved and that was entirely different.”_ **

**_-Atticus_ **

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

 

_ July 12, 1998 11:47 A.M. _

_ Mykonos Bay Hotel _

_ Mykonos _

  
  


This morning found her sprawled across a bed that certainly wasn’t her own, and she counted herself lucky to still be wearing her knickers. Though her dress had been discarded in his floor and she found herself in his quidditch jersey once more. It hung off of one shoulder as she shifted in his bed, crawling from under his arm. 

 

For someone who was so lean, with the build of a quidditch seeker, Draco was too heavy. With his arm slung over her midriff, it was a struggle. Hermione had just nearly made it out of the bed when hands gripped her hips and dragged her back. “Where going?” He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, and her heart melted. 

 

He wasn’t even awake yet, with light blond hair falling into his eyes. He sported light stubble, something she’d never seen on him before the summer. He was always so well kept, groomed to perfection, and when she ran her fingers across the light dusting, she found that she might prefer him this way. 

 

There was a wonder of how it would feel scraping against her thighs that caused heat to pool in her lower belly. Giggling, Hermione pressed her lips to his forehead, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “Draco..” she whispered. “Let me up, I need to use the loo.” It was a lie mostly. What she really wanted was a glass of water. 

 

The only response he gave was to tighten his arms around her and tuck her head beneath his chin. “Sleep,” he grumbled. 

 

Hermione twisted to get her other hand out from under her side, and tickled his sides. “Let me out of bed, Malfoy.” Hermione squeaked, surprised, when he jumped and his forehead slammed against hers. 

 

“Oi, Granger, keep your big forehead to yourself.” He growled, yanking the blankets to cover them once more. “Just stay here with me.” 

 

When he put it like that, it was hard to stay focused. “I’ll come back. I just want some water, you big baby.” She poked him in his side again. “And really, we should be getting up since it’s nearly noon.” 

 

He groaned. “I haven’t slept this good since before that snake faced bastard moved into the manor.” His fingers stroked the tops of her legs, sending shivers down her spine. “Not to mention if we stay here, I can do this whenever I want.” 

 

A most unlike Hermione Granger sounding squeal came from her as his hands moved to grab her hips and he lifted her to straddle his waist. “You  _ can  _ do this whenever you want.” She rolled her eyes, flattening her palms against his chest. “Isn’t this where you tell me we have plans today anyway?” 

 

He snorted. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it, Granger. You love when I take you places.” He pulled her down, the palm of his hand sliding under her shirt to caress her back. “And we have reservations at nine o'clock. Until then though..” Draco trailed off, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. 

 

Hermione was certain this would never get old, the constant surprise that he could be this..soft with her. Yet, she was inexperienced compared to him, and she was just as eager to take him by surprise. 

 

Rolling her hips experimentally, she moaned when she felt his hardening cock press against her through her knickers. “Fucking Merlin,” he hissed, tugging at her hair and biting her bottom lip. 

 

“Was that good?” She asked him, only semi wary. No matter how small the insecurity was, it was still there, that he had been with multiple girls and she just might make a fool of herself. 

 

His chuckle made her even more nervous, until he thrust upwards, and untangled his fingers from her hair. Draco held her hips, guiding her. “Was it good?” He repeated. “It’s bloody fantastic.” 

 

He shifted, sitting up against the headboard and pulling her flush against him. “I see why you don’t want to leave the room.” She smiled, tracing his Sectumsempra scar before leaning forward to press her lips against each inch of it. “I told Harry not to use this, or anything from that book.” Hermione murmured. 

 

Hot tears sprang to her eyes as he lifted her arm, only after using his wand to mutter a “ _ Finite Incantatem. _ ” Draco kissed across the scar Bellatrix had caused with such tenderness that a sob was dragged from her. “I still regret not doing more.” 

 

She nodded. “It’s okay.” Not looking at him, she rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m usually not so emotional.” 

 

He murmured for her to be quiet. “You’re allowed to grieve still.” Draco told her quietly as she leaned her forehead against his. 

 

She nodded. It felt right, the moment escalating into something unexpected as she grinded her hips over him once more and kissed him roughly. It was as if she couldn’t get close enough to him, with how she pressed herself to him. Hermione’s nails bit into his shoulders while she clung to him. 

 

He snuck his hand between them, rubbing her clit through her knickers. His fingers moved in small circles, and she shuddered against him. “Keep moving your hips love,” he whispered to her, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

 

It was torturous, with Hermione whimpering as he nudged her knickers to the side and two fingers slowly slid inside of her, with his thumb still rubbing her clit. “Draco,” she gasped, her hips stuttering, but he guided her then. “Gods, that’s,” 

 

“I want you to come over my fingers, Hermione. Will you do that for me?” He asked her, staring up at her in awe. 

 

“Yes,” she agreed weakly, slouching against him. “Draco, that’s,” Hermione was absolutely sure of one thing: that she would never get used to how quickly he could control her body, or how quickly he could bring her to the edge.

 

With a smirk on his face, Draco kissed her hard, capturing her scream as his fingers worked her into a trembling mess. “You’re so beautiful when you come.” 

 

She panted, throwing the blankets into the floor. She was sweating, and it just wasn’t fair how he could be sweating and still look so fucking enticing. Swinging her leg over him, she crawled off of him, but she didn’t make eye contact. “Could you show me how to do that to you?” Hermione asked quietly. 

 

His eyes widened, gray growing darker. “Hermione, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” Draco assured her. 

 

She shook her head. “I want to, but my experience is lacking. Clearly since what I have done, I’ve apparently done wrong.” 

 

He scoffed. “I doubt it, but really, are you fucking serious?” He snarled, breaking off to glare at the window. 

 

Hermione laughed at the sight of Jaxie tapping on the window impatiently. “Well, hold that thought then I suppose.” She smiled, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and padding across the room. “Do you have any treats? I always give her some while I write back.” 

 

Grumbling under his breath of how Saint Potter was still ruining his life, he nodded and pulled a glass jar from his nightstand. “Mother’s owl devours these.” He  held out a treat for the newest bane of his existence, and Jaxie flew to him after Hermione pulled the letter from him. “What does it say?” 

 

Hermione jumped back onto the bed, accidently bending Harry’s letter. Draco was certain that she wanted to be the death of him as she crawled up the bed and sat between his legs, her back meeting his chest. 

 

He was delighted by the small moan that slipped from her lips as he pinched her nipple through her shirt. “I’ll read over your shoulder if that’s alright.” 

 

She nodded, taking his wrist and slipping his hand under her shirt. “Sure, but only if you continue with what you were doing.” She grinned wickedly. 

 

With his cock nestled firmly against her arse, he was absolutely sure he was going to die. 

 

_ Hermione,  _

 

_ I don’t have much to say. Auror training is going well for Ron and I. Molly is trying to plan a wedding for Ginny and I when we aren’t even engaged. If you ask me I think she just needs something to distract her from losing Fred. If that’s the case, I suppose I’m not that angry about it.  _

 

_ I heard something interesting at the Ministry. Narcissa Malfoy was making an inquiry as to whether she could find out who a certain patronus belonged to. Apparently Draco Malfoy wound up in Mykonos as well, and has found himself a Witch.  _

 

_ It’s mind boggling if you ask me, but have you seen him? Ron was worried the two of you would run into each other. Though I’m not sure what he has to worry about. You nearly broke that ferret’s nose in fourth year, and you’re better with a wand. _

 

_ Would you please let your floo up?  _

 

_ Harry.  _

 

Hermione let the letter fall into her lap, and Draco’s fingers had stopped moving against her. “It’s only a matter of time before your mother figures out who that otter belongs to.” She said quietly, sliding her fingers through his own. 

 

He sighed, his head hitting the headboard. “Your friends will probably be the first ones to know.” He told her. “How do you feel about that?” 

 

“I feel like we should find another island to visit before they show up here. Harry is going to be more reasonable than Ron. He’s going to blow a gasket when he finds out.” She slumped against him, peering up at him. “Does that change anything?” 

 

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” He grumbled. “I’m not thrilled that it’s only a matter of time before I’m staring down one of their wands, but it doesn’t make me want to leave you either.” 

 

“That’s sweet.” 

 

He rolled his eyes. “If I was going to ditch you at the first sign of conflict I would have told you all I wanted was some casual fling, and I would have told you I didn’t want any strings attached.” Draco murmured. 

 

“So you do want strings attached?” Hermione groaned when he snorted. “That came out wrong, but you know fully well what I meant.” 

 

“Yes, Granger, strings are attached here. This is a relationship, I think. I’m not great with them either. Any time I remotely showed an interest in the opposite sex Father tried to tie me down in an engagement.” She snorted. “Pen a reply to Potter so I can have you to myself again.” He pulled a quill from the bedside table, dipping it in ink and handing it to her. 

 

“Do you think I should tell him the truth?” 

 

He shrugged. “I think that depends on how soon you want to deal with their inevitable visit.” 

 

_ Harry,  _

 

_ Yes, I’ve seen Malfoy. No, I don’t need rescuing, and no, he’s not a raging arsehole. I think he’s healing just like I am.  _

 

_ I would prefer you not tell Ron, as he will storm down here when it’s not his business.  _

 

_ Hermione.  _

 

“Harry has always been oblivious.” She muttered. 

 

* * *

 

_ July 15, 1998. 6 A.M. _

_ Draco’s Hotel Room _

_ Mykonos _

  
  


It was always a toss up on which room they would end up when night fell. Some nights Draco claimed her bed was softer, not that it mattered since she was his pillow really. No matter how he tried to deny it, they always ended up twisted together, a mess of limbs with his arms around her waist and using her breasts for pillows. 

 

Some nights Hermione preferred to view of his room, with its high balcony overlooking the Aegean sea, completed with a jacuzzi tub. She liked to lounge there, until he’d finally had enough and tugged her into his lap, deftly reaching behind her and pulling the string of her bikini. She happened to prefer those moments. 

 

But every time, neither of them wanted to seperate. They were paying for two different rooms, yet they really could have gotten by with one. No matter how logical it would have been to leave one, she wouldn’t bring it up. It would brand some type of commitment on whatever this was, and she wasn’t sure sure she wanted to have that discussion. 

 

This morning found them in his room once more, and one of them had kicked the sheet off of the bed during the course of the night. Draco laid over her, his head resting on her chest. Hermione ran her fingers through soft strands of blond hair, brushing them out of his eyes. “Draco,” she whispered, poking his side. 

 

He yelped, sitting up quickly and his wand flying into his hand. “What is it?” 

 

She wanted to lean up and kiss the worry off of his face. It didn’t matter that they were so far from Great Britain, he was always on edge. She was nearly certain that the only time he did let his guard down was when he was sleeping. “My foot was stuck, I just wanted you to move over some. Lay back down with me, Draco.” 

 

Hermione opened her arms after she crawled past him to set his wand on the nightstand once more. He swatted her arse. “At what point did your shirt come off?” He asked, drinking in the sight of her. 

 

She shrugged. “It was really hot last night, and I took it off. Why?” Smiling like that, she knew exactly what. “Draco,” she snapped her fingers in front of his face. 

 

“Nothing,” he told her, but with the tone of his voice she had her doubts. “I’ll be right back.” He muttered, standing to his feet and disappearing into the bathroom. 

 

Hermione laid against the headboard, glancing down at herself and gnawing on her lip. Hermione reached into the floor, donning the green quidditch jersey that met her mid thigh. Her curiosity got the better of her as she tiptoed towards the bathroom door. Pressing her ear to against the cool wood, she nearly slammed her toe against the door as she jumped away from it. 

 

His groan sent shivers down her spine, and with heat pooling in her lower belly, she knew exactly what he was doing. It was clear why he’d left her so suddenly, and she wanted to storm in there, smack him on the side of his head, and tell him how foolish it was.

 

Before she could talk herself out of it, Hermione took a deep breath, and turned the doorknob quickly. She giggled as he tried to hide just what he’d been doing, but it was of little use. “What the -” Hermione surged forward, her hands sliding along his bare chest. “Granger, you could warn a bloke.” 

 

She shook her head, nibbling his bottom lip and pinning him to the counter with her hips. “You’d have pretend this never happened.” 

 

“It would be preferable you didn’t storm in on me wanking.” Draco’s nails skimmed along her spine. 

 

“I would prefer if you didn’t try to take care of it yourself.” Hermione told him, slipping her hand across the outside of his pajamas. The silk was smooth against her fingertips. Lightly gripping his erection through the fabric, she stroked him. Her cheeks were warm as she avoided making eye contact. “What I’d really like is for you to teach me.” 

 

His “What?” was a strangled groan. “Oh, fuck,” he hissed as she grew a little braver, tugging the edge of his bottoms down. “Are you serious?” 

 

“What kind of question is that?” She muttered. “Would I have said it if I wasn’t serious?” Hermione asked, and wrapped her fingers around his cock. “Merlin,” she breathed, and it was just loud enough for him to hear the surprise in her voice. “my fingers don’t quite fit.” 

 

“Say you’re serious,” he nearly growled. 

 

Hermione’s eyes were hooded, darkened with want, but Draco’s were heated, and fixed on her as if she were his prey. “I’m serious.” She told him, stroking him slowly. His head fell back, and he gripped the counter roughly. “I want you to show me how to touch you. I want you to show me what you like.” 

 

“Bloody fucking goddamned -” Draco cut himself off by yanking her forward, his fingers digging into her hair roughly. It was as they scraped against her scalp that she moaned and he took it for his own. “You’re so -” he kept cutting himself off, backing her out of the bathroom, and she tried to continue stroking him. “perfect, that’s the word I’m looking for.” 

 

“Hardly,” she argued, and he picked her right off her feet and threw her into his bed. Hermione squeaked, crawling towards him as the mattress dipped underneath the weight of his knee. “I’m naturally curious.” 

 

“As much as I love to see you in my house colors, it has to go.” His voice rumbled. “Will you take it off for me?” It wasn’t the best time to remember that she was terribly nervous about this, and him seeing her completely naked even if it wasn’t the first time. “Hermione, love, I might die if I don’t see you.” 

 

It was the nickname that did her in. Pinching the hem of the shirt between her fingers, she crossed her arms and pulled it over her head. Looking at him this time, just so she could take in the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides, she chose to reach behind her and unclasp the fastening of her bra. 

 

It hadn’t even met the floor before he picked her up to straddle his waist, or that was what she thought. He held her above him, cupping her arse, while he flicked one nipple with the tip of his tongue. Hermione whimpered, unable to worry about the fact that she might topple over and embarrass herself. “You’re  _ supposed  _ to be teaching me,” she pointed out. 

 

“Are you so eager to learn, Granger?” He smirked, sitting her on his lap. “Just let me,” 

 

Hermione managed to fling herself backwards, effectively dragging him on top of her, and then rolling him onto his back. “No, you made me come on that boat. I want to do this, but I don’t know how. I might make a right fool of myself.” 

 

“If it involves you touching my dick, there’s not a chance.” He turned his face to nuzzle her hair. “Touch me then, I’ll tell you if something isn’t good.” 

 

Strangely, that didn’t make her feel all that much better. Too worried about  _ not  _ falling on her face, she didn’t bother to attempt sexiness as she pulled his silk pajamas down his legs. Sitting with her legs folded beneath her, and with a curtain of her hair concealing her face, she took his cock in her hand and the base. Her movements were small, crippled by nerves, but with each soft groan, she grew that much more confident. 

 

“Like this?” 

 

He relaxed with his arms crossed behind his head, but he reached down. His hand covered her much smaller one, tightening her hand around his cock. “Like  _ that _ .” 

 

She nodded, trying to swallow, but her throat was too dry. In the Hogwarts dorms, she’d seen photographs. Padma and Lavender were perhaps a bit too knowledgeable in this part of a man’s anatomy. Hermione hadn’t understood at the time why you would even want to see this, but she did now. It wasn’t so much the sight of him that did her in. Even though his cock was thick in her hand, and long - she had what she thought was a childish question: would he even fit? Obviously he would, and she felt silly when she knew how it worked. 

 

He had the effect over her that she tended to get off track. The familiar throbbing in her lower stomach was anticipation. And she found that she wanted nothing more than to know what he would feel like inside her and -

 

“Hermione, fuck,” he moaned, curving his body to slide his hand between her legs. “so fucking good for me,” he muttered as she parted her legs eagerly. 

 

She’d said she wanted him inside of her  _ outloud  _ apparently. “I do want that,” she bit her lip, brushing her thumb across the slit of his cock. At least the perverted lessons in Gryffindor Tower had done her some good. “I want to know what it would be like, how it would feel.” She trailed off. 

 

Hermione leaned down, brushing her hair behind her ear, and tentatively licked the tip of him. “Oh,” he groaned, his hips jerking up. “Where the fuck did you learn  _ that _ ?” His voice was animalistic, and she shuddered, rocking back against his hand. When she rolled her tongue against the length of him again, still sliding her hand up and down slowly, his fingers knotted in her hair. 

 

She moaned, her back arching as he slid two fingers into her wet cunt. “Draco,” is what she moaned, but it’s not like he could have understand. 

 

“I’m going to come,” he panted, trying to move her off of him. The way she shook her head was subtle. “Fucking ten hells,  _ please  _ let me come in your pretty mouth.” 

 

A nod, followed by the way she moved her hand faster. The worry that she  _ wouldn’t  _ be good enough was gone. 

 

“Hermione,” he pulled her hair, wrenching a loud moan from her, and the sweet sound snapped the last bit of his self control. “oh, my fucking -” 

 

He spilled into her mouth, the saltiness covering her tongue. Swallowing his come - she hardly wanted to dash into the bathroom -, she peeked up at him. Draco collapsed against the pillows, his eyes falling shut. “Was that good?” 

 

He cracked one eyes open sleepily to look at her. “If I wasn’t so completely spent I would pin you to this bed and return the favor. You were phenomenal.” He beckoned for her to come to him, and she straddled his waist, the early morning rays cutting across her chest. “You have a bit of, uh,” he reached to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb. Except her tongue darted out to lick it away. 

 

Draco stared at her. “You’re going to kill me.” He muttered. “Gods, if that isn’t the best way to wake up, I don’t know what is.” 

 

She smiled, shifting her hips innocently. “Then I suppose it’s lucky that we have all summer, isn’t it?”


	11. Chapter Ten

**_“The greatest healing therapy is friendship and love.”_ **

**_-Hubert H. Humphrey_ **

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

 

_ July 18, 1998. 1:30 P.M. _

_ De Novo Cafe _

_ Mykonos _

 

Granger sat in his lap while they sat in one of the larger leather seats in the cafe. Ever after he’d been in and out of this restaurant with her for nearly two entire months, they still kept a close eye on him. They likely believed she was under the Imperius Curse, and really, it made more sense than Hermione Granger spending all of her time with him. 

 

He accepted the facts as they were, but he wasn’t so convinced that any of this could go well. She was fantastic, and even with her snuggled against him while reading  _ Hogwarts: A History _ , he wouldn’t have chosen to be anywhere else. It was sappy to admit that anywhere she was is where he longed to be. Draco’s book had been sitting on the table beside them for nearly a half hour. 

 

“You have a staring problem.” Hermione murmured, peeling her eyes away to look up at him. “I very seriously doubt you’re reading this,” she lifted the book. “for your own entertainment.” 

 

He smirked. “Did you know,” he brushed a hair out of her face before kissing behind her ear. The pair of them were so adorable together, he wanted to vomit. “that you have an incredibly cute freckle behind your left ear?” 

 

Hermione’s eyes shot open, and her book fell to her lap as she clapped her hands over her ears. “Stop it,” she whined. “I hate that stupid freckle.” 

 

“What did a freckle ever do to you?” He chuckled. Her legs were crossed, hanging over the side of the chair. Best that she’d worn joggers today. 

 

“I was teased mercilessly in primary - it’s Muggle school for when you’re younger -, and there were two boys who made fun of me for it. It’s silly now that I say it outloud, but -” 

 

“I assure you that it is quite adorable, like that button nose of yours.” She scowled. “For Merlin’s sake, I’ll hunt those two pricks down myself if I have to.” Hermione peppered kisses along his jawline. 

 

“I like this,” she murmured, running her fingers against his stubble. 

 

“So you’ve told me.” Draco replied quietly. “Why do you think I haven’t shaved?” 

 

He imagined he would never tire of the bright smiles that crossed her face. They put his heart out of rhythm each time, and what a  _ whipped  _ thing to say. “Draco,” Hermione bit her bottom lip, and picked at her nails. “This has probably been the best summer of my life, you know.” 

 

His heart stuttered at her eyes beginning to water. “Compared to the summers at the Manor,” he broke off, and took a deep breath. She looked crestfallen as she sat there in his lap, and it wouldn’t be right to brush any of this off. “I apologize,” he cleared his throat. “Mother has always told me I tend to deflect so I can avoid discussing my emotions.” 

 

She snorted. “Really? I could never imagine that.” 

 

“Your sarcasm is neither wanted nor appreciated.” But he laughed anyway. “I didn’t expect any of this, of course, but I'm grateful I ran into you here.” 

 

She stroked his cheek affectionately. “I never thought I would be glad you called me a cunt.” Hermione burst into giggles at the surly look on his face. “I’m kidding. If I were to tell you, that I didn’t want this summer to end, would that scare you away?” Tilting her head to the side, her mass of curls slipping from one shoulders, she waited without breathing. 

 

He would have told her the truth. Of how he couldn’t imagine losing her in mere weeks, to let her return to the life that she would have had before they crashed together. If he’d had any sort of sanity left, he wouldn’t have pondered asking her to run, and not look back. He had enough money, even with what the Ministry had taken. 

 

They could travel the world. He wanted to tell her, without all of the flair, and routine of an arranged courtship, that he wanted nothing more than to give her everything. To take millions of photographs because somehow Hermione lit up each one. 

 

There happened to be one thing wrong with telling her all of this, and it wasn’t because he feared the rejection that would cut him so deeply. 

 

Hermione Granger hadn’t fought through a war to blow off her N.E.W.T’s. Absolutely not, she planned to crush every last person in their year. 

 

The two things that really stopped him from blurting a hundred sweet nothing, followed by several dozen reasons of why she should let him take her to Paris turned out two people. 

 

Oh, no, three people. 

 

Because nothing ruined his mood faster than Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and his  _ mother.   _

 

* * *

 

The magic crackled in the air, and Hermione’s wand flew into her hand. Tilting her body to shield his, which he tried to throw her behind him, she fired back. “ _ Expelliarmus!” _ Her feet met the tile, her sandals clacking against it. “Ronald, stop this!” She yelled. 

 

His cheeks were as red as his hair, his freckles practically nonexistent as he glared at the man behind her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snarled, and her fingers tightened around her hawthorne wand. “Was it not enough to watch  _ your  _ fucking  _ aunt  _ carve into Hermione while she bled on your floor? You had to Imperio her too?  _ Stupefy! _ ” 

 

Hermione lunged in front of Draco, clasing her arms around his neck, and taking the spell to the middle of her back. A pained whimper slipping between her lips, Draco caught her. His body was wound tightly, as if he could snap, and if she was right he already had. “Weasley,” he warned. “She’s not under a curse.” 

 

Harry scoffed. “Hermione would have cast a shield charm if she were herself, not jumped in front of you.” Yet the doubt was rooted there.

 

Hermione turned, her eyes narrowed as she took in the empty cafe. The patrons had vanished, leaving only them, and Narcissa Malfoy, who looked meticulously well kept together in her long black robes. “I’m not cursed, you morons. I’ve been with him since the beginning of the summer.” 

 

“The fuck you have,” Ron began. 

 

“You fucking prick,” Draco pushed past her, despite her protests. “I’m more than willing to be put in Azkaban if it means I can -” 

 

_ “ _ _ Petrificus Totalus!” _

 

Hermione glanced at Narcissa curiously as the exact same spell left the woman’s lips. She winked. “Draco would be brought before the Wizengamot once more if he attacked an Auror, or Auror in Training. I doubt they would allow the excuse that he wanted to protect his Witch’s honor.”

 

Hermione sighed, looking where she had frozen Ron, and Harry had caught him. Draco was held up by a wordless levitation spell. “Harry, you’ll be able to tell that I’m not cursed. I’ve been with him willingly, for the entire summer. He’s my..boyfriend.” 

 

If Ron hadn’t been frozen, she could imagine his reaction. Nostrils flaring while he accused her of betrayal. And he did just that once he was released from the bind. 

 

Hermione came to Draco’s side, slipping her hand into his while lacing her fingers with his. “Are you okay?” She whispered into his ear. 

 

“I wasn’t the one hit with a stunning spell, Granger.” His voice was hoarse. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, and he rubbed slow circles on her back. “Potter, get on with it and stop staring.” 

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Harry peered into both Hermione, and Draco’s minds, using legilimency. “Mate, they’re telling the truth.” Harry told him. “Hermione isn’t under any sort of spell. She has her own free will. I told you we ought to have talked to her before coming here.” 

 

“I don’t bloody believe this!” Ron yelled, but he didn’t come closer to her. “What did we fight in a war for? For you to hook up with some Death Eater? He fucking killed people, Hermione. Are you daft?” 

 

“He didn’t have a choice, Ron.” She argued, her voice climbing higher. Hermione stepped towards him, gripping him by the shoulders and giving him a hard look. “I’m not making light of anything that happened, you must realize that.” She said quietly. 

 

Ron’s hand rested on her arm, but he just shook his head. “You don’t know the things he’s done. The Dark Lord’s revels, they’re -” 

 

“I already know what took place during those revels, and I’m perfectly aware of the guilt that followed.” The sharp intake of breath made her want to run back into his arms, but damage control was needed now. 

 

“His side killed Fred,” he murmured. 

 

“They did, but Draco didn’t.” 

 

Ron’s eyes hardened, and with a shove -regret passed over his face immediately afterwards-, he pushed her away. “The Hermione I knew wouldn’t be with him.” 

 

“The ‘Hermione’ you’re speaking of hadn’t gotten to know him yet, so I suppose that’s true. I want to move on, Ron, and, truly, he’s made my life so much better. If you came here to force me back home, I won’t go.” 

 

“You’re choosing him then, over your friends?” 

 

“Are you asking me to choose?” She cried out. “Did I ask you to choose between Lavender and our friendship? No, I accepted that she was who you needed no matter how it cut me.” 

 

“If you’ve already made your choice, there’s nothing to talk about.” Ron scowled at her, pulling a portkey from his pocket, and he was gone. 

 

Harry gave her a sympathetic look. “He’s, well, you know how he is,” he nodded to Malfoy. “This is odd to see.” 

 

“So it is.” Hermione said. “That doesn’t mean it’s going away.” 

 

“I know. I told him it was a mistake to come here, and I told him he might not like what we found either.” 

 

“Well, wasn’t that grossly miscalculated?” Draco coughed. “He’s going to storm away like a child and tell the entire world. If there’s one nasty thing about Granger in the Daily Prophet, make no mistake - I will be back in England.” 

 

Harry straightened up. “You’d be arrested for assaulting an auror.” 

 

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck, Potter.” 

 

Hermione’s arms were folded across her chest tightly, and she took a look at a chair that had been knocked over during the initial fight. She should have immobilized him sooner. “Would you care to explain how exactly you found out?’ 

 

Narcissa raised her hand daintily, but sheepishly. “I’m afraid it is my fault. I was so curious to know the Witch who had ensnared my son’s heart. I had no idea that it would be someone so well known. I have a friend in the Ministry; given that you had a patronus, and assuming you were on the Light side, I started digging.” 

 

“It spread like wildfire until it got back to the Auror Department.” Harry told them. “Mrs. Malfoy was in the atrium when Ron stormed out, throwing a right fit of how he was going to kill Malfoy for touching you.” 

 

“I’d like to see that git try.” Draco said darkly. 

 

Hermione shook her head. “Well, this was not how this day was meant to go.” She sighed. 

 

* * *

  
  


“What did you mother say about me?” Hermione asked him, digging her toes into the sand as the tide swept in. The waves covered their feet while they sat at the shoreline. “You were gone a long time.” 

 

“Did you miss me?” He teased her, covering her hand that she used to hold herself up with his own. 

 

Well, hardly, he wasn’t gong that long. She’d worried that his mother could possibly be telling him that a Muggleborn was a horrible stain on the Malfoy family tree, and that- “Have I ever told you how conceited you are?” 

 

“Only a time or two,” he smiled. “she was nagging to go to dinner with us, not that I would put you through that.” 

 

“She wanted to have dinner with me?” Hermione echoed. 

 

He nodded, looking across the water as the sun set below it. “I thought you would be surprised. She had nothing but wonderful things to say about you.” He idly stroked her hand. 

 

“She doesn’t know a thing about me beyond status.” She murmured. “What did she think of this?” Hermione waved her hand between the two of them. 

 

“Stop worrying, she approved of us. Even if she hadn’t, do you think so little of me?” Hermione always felt small when he looked at her like so intensely. “She could have told me that I couldn’t be with a Muggleborn, and I’d have told her to fuck right off.” 

 

“Is that so?” 

 

“It is. Merlin, I don’t know how any of this happened so quickly, but to lose you would feel like a part of myself was missing.” Draco held her gaze, and slightly panicked when a tear slid down her cheek. 

 

“I never understood summer romances,” she admitted to him quietly. “Summer is maybe eight to twelve weeks long. I didn’t think it was possible to fall for someone quickly, but I was wrong.” 

 

“Aren’t you glad you were wrong?” Draco grinned, and her heart burst. “You asked me if it would scare me away earlier, if you told me you never wanted this summer to end.” 

 

She nodded. 

 

“Fuck no, it wouldn’t scare me. Hermione, I’m not the type of man who is afraid of commitment. If we hadn’t been interrupted, I would have rambled of how I wanted to take you away, of how I could make this summer last the rest of our fucking lives, and -” 

 

Hermione jumped at him, tackling him into the sand just as the tide swept in. The sea soaked them as she laid over him, kissing him feverishly. It was a he held her against him tightly that she finally had the nerve to ask. “Will you come back to Hogwarts for the last year?” 

 

“I wasn’t going to,” he murmured into the skin of her collarbone. “do you want me to, Hermione?” Pulling her shirt down, along with the cup of her bra, his tongue flicked against her nipple. 

 

She gasped. “It’s not my choice.” Hermione shivered, digging her nails into his shoulders.  “I wanted to take my N.E.W.T’s, and I wanted to experience my last year like I should have.” 

 

He hummed, sucking on the hardened bud lightly. “Would it make you happy if I came back?” 

 

“Yes,” he rolled her onto her back, hovering over her with a smirk plastered to his face. “it would make me terribly happy to have you there.” 

 

“Then I’ll be there.” He told her. “Has anyone ever taken you on a date in Hogsmeade?” 

 

She laughed as his fingers moved up and down her sides, tickling her. “Once in fourth year. Viktor asked me.” 

 

“Right, bloody Krum.” He growled. “No matter, he was a foreigner. He didn’t know the best spots.” Draco’s hands rested in the sand on either side of her head, and Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist. “You look beautiful like this, flushed and under me.” 

 

“Do I?” Hermione said coyly. 

 

* * *

  
  


_ July 24th, 1998. 3:30 A.M. _

_ Draco’s Room _

_ Mykonos _

 

They had an entire island, most of which they had already explored, to lose themselves in, but somehow they always ended up in his room. Draco had talked her into letting go of her hotel room, and just staying with him. They already spent all of their time together, so what did it really change? 

 

Most of the times he convinced her to stay in, claiming they would just have a lie in, her clothes ended up in a discarded pile on the floor. 

 

“How can you drink so much, but not be affected?” Hermione slurred as he set her on her feet in their room. “You’re so pretty.” She said, staring at him in awe and setting to work on his tie. “I want you out of this.” 

 

He chuckled, cupping the back of her neck and bending down to kiss her. “You’re pissed.” He pushed her against the wall nearest to them, yanking the neckline of her dress down and leaving marks across her breasts. 

 

She whined impatiently. “We’re both wearing too many clothes, and I’m too hot.” She tried to reach her zipper, but she was on her feet once more, being spun around. Draco tried to unzip the little black dress she wore, but the zipper was stuck. 

 

“Fuck this,” he groaned, and grabbed either side to rip it open. “no bra or knickers this time?” He breathed in her ear. 

 

She laughed. “I might have hoped you would finger me under the table at dinner.” Hermione whispered. “There’s something I want to do, but I would be too scared any other time.” 

 

“I will give you anything you want so long as you stay like this, and keep the heels on.” 

 

_ “Accio  _ polaroid camera.” Hermione said, holding her hand out as the camera flew right into her hand. “I want to take pictures,” she told him, but he didn’t understand. “of us, right now.” 

 

He looked positively sinful as his eyes roamed over her. Taking the camera from her, he slid his hand against the mound of her pussy, his fingers sliding down to rub her clit. Her legs nearly buckled. “Get on the bed, Princess.” 

 

Grinning, Hermione guided him by his tie as she backed towards the bed. “You aren’t coming with me?” She pouted. 

 

“Get on the bed,” he murmured in her ear, nipping it. “On your knees.” Draco let go of her, his gaze lingering on her slightly bruised lips for a moment longer. 

 

Hermione moved carefully, smoothing down the emerald sheets, with her legs tucked under her. “Like this, you mean?” 

 

“Spread your legs.” He ordered, raising the camera. Draco didn’t complain when she let her hair fall forward so she could hide. But he crouched at the end of the bed, taking a photograph of her. Her nipples were stiff against the chill air seeping in from an open window. 

 

Hermione’s smile was small, but her eyes were mischievous as she fell forward, crawling towards him. “Draco,” she purred. He snapped the photo quickly, catching her off guard.

 

“Seeing you on your hands and knees fucks me up, Hermione.” He rasped. “You like this, don’t you?” 

 

“Mmm,” she moaned, swaying as she sat on her knees once more. “I like feeling like I have the same power you hold over me.” She cupped her tits, and they spilled from her hands. “I like knowing I drive you insane.” 

 

His lips parted as he watched her imitate how he touched her, watched her pinch her pert nipples. “You make me out of control.” 

 

“Hand me my wand, please.” Hermione winked at him, taking it from his hand. Waving it, but not breathing a word, he thought it was a simple levitation charm. 

 

But when she sat at the end of the bed, taking his tie off slowly, the camera went off, spitting a picture to the floor. His eyes widened in disbelief while he took in her cheeky smile. “Dirty fucking thing,” he scolded, sliding his fingers through her slick folds, and pushing one finger inside of her. “Merlin, the things I want to do to you.” 

 

She didn’t waste any time with the individual buttons, choosing to tear his shirt open. The buttons flew in different directions, one of them making a soft  _ ping  _ against the vase on his dresser. “I need you out of these,” she whispered, and he hobbled on one foot to get his shoe off. 

 

Hermione shook with laughter while kicked his shoes off, and shucked his pants. Draco had been the one to hesitate when it came to his boxers, but she bit her lip at the sight of him. Fully erect, and aching to be touched - Hermione slipped her fingers into the waistband and pulled them down. 

 

Her eyes were dark with lust, and he didn’t miss the way she rubbed her legs together with a desperate whimper. Yet she didn’t let him lay her back so he could lower his mouth to her cunt. No, Hermione slid from where she sat on the bed, and onto her knees. 

 

The camera went off at the exact moment pouty lips wrapped around the head of his cock while his tugged her hair how she liked so well. “Gods,” he groaned, his hips thrusting forward, but only barely. 

 

She rolled her tongue against him, whimpering. 

 

“Touch yourself, rub your clit.” He told her, more than satisfied by the loud, but muffled moan that left her. “Don’t come, Princess. Your orgasms are mine.” He wanted to taste her, to have his tongue buried in her cunt when she came screaming, and she did scream. His name, expletives, the names of the Hogwarts founders, comically. 

 

Hermione took him farther into her mouth, and when the tip of his cock met the back of her throat, his fingers tightened in her hair and he pulled her backwards. “Draco, no, let me,” 

 

“On the bed,” he barely managed that, bending weakly to scoop her up and put her on the bed. “Do you remember when I asked you what your favorite position was?” 

 

She looked immediately panicked. 

 

Draco shook his head, guiding her by her hips. “I want this.” He reassured her. “Trust me, okay?” 

 

She didn’t say anything as she kneeled over him, one leg on either side of his head. Hermione could feel the slight buzz she’d had ebbing away. 

 

Hermione licked the tip of him, smirking when his hips jerked and his nails raked down her back. With her fingers around him, she bent her head down and took him into her mouth. She might never admit it outloud, unless she had consumed copious amounts of alcohol again, but she liked to have him in her mouth. She relished in the feel of him below her tongue. 

 

Until his tongue swiped across her clit and she was sure she was going to fall apart, and she realized all too quickly that it was impossible to focus. 

 

Draco was slow in his strokes, each touch carefully considered. It hadn’t been like this during her first time with this. Albeit it was still clumsy -  okay maybe she was the only clumsy one here since Draco  _ was  _ holding her in place by her thighs.

 

What she wanted to convey was that it took approximately three swipes of his tongue against her clit and she was shaking. And once two fingers slid into her pussy, curling against the inside of her, she shrieked. A strained sound as she took his cock farther into her mouth while trying to drag groans from him. 

 

Pride bloomed in her chest, though it was a bit silly to feel so proud of this, when her lips met the base of his cock. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” a gutteral, animalistic growl left him, his fingers pumping into her faster. Draco flipped her over, his movements sluggish, but he was still faster than her. 

 

She whimpered at the loss of his fingers when her back met the cool sheets. “Draco,” 

 

He pushed her legs up where her knees rested on either side of her face. 

 

She was not prepared for the way his tongue slid inside of her cunt while he gripped her legs so tightly there would be marks in the morning. “Oh, my Gods, Draco, I can’t,” 

 

“You will.” Draco growled, holding her legs up with one hand and sinking two fingers inside of her. “There’s no silencing charm on this room. Did you know that?” 

 

She shook her head. 

 

The entire hotel would have heard her shriek his name while she trembled, covering her mouth with her hands, but it didn’t do any good. He’d uncovered what she liked, but it was when he sucked her clit, timed with his fingers stretched her, that she came undone. 

 

Whatever she said was a blur, a mix of obscenities, and his name. Mostly his name as she writhed beneath him. 

 

Hermione laid against the bed, utterly spent and gazed up at him. “Draco,” she murmured, tracing the Dark Mark on his forearm. “I’m so happy.” She rolled on her side, her eyes dropping to the floor beside the bed. “How many did we  _ take _ ?” 

 

He chuckled, pulling her into the curve of his body as he laid his head on the pillows. “I have no idea. How many would you say?” 

 

Silence, and then a very serious “I’ll need more film to last the rest of the summer, especially if we do that again.” 

  
  


He kissed her shoulder, and murmured something she couldn’t hear. 

 


	12. Chapter Eleven

**_“I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it’s these things I believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be._ **

**_I love her and that is the beginning of everything.”_ **

**_F. Scott Fitzgerald_ **

 

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

 

Given that Mykonos was also friendly towards Muggles, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when she took him by the hand and dragged him down the boardwalk. “Stop resisting,” Hermione tugged on his hand. “That’s a fireworks stand, I’ve read about them.” 

 

“What the fuck is a firework?” 

 

She didn’t tell him, assuming that if she did, he would actually not come. She bought sparklers, shaking her head when the Muggle woman told her that they should really buy these others as well. She’d only used sparklers once in the United States as a child when her parents had taken a holiday there. 

 

At the beginning of August, dread had begun to coil in her stomach all too tightly. He was returning to Hogwarts, she reminded herself as she peeked up at him while they sat on the edge of a dock. It was well past midnight now, and the package of sparklers sat beside her. 

 

“I can hear you thinking from here, Granger. Spit it out.” He told her, pulling a stick from the cardboard packaging and eyeing it warily. 

 

“It’s silly fears,” 

 

“Quite possibly, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it.” He replied, turning to face her. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

 

She scowled, “What look?” 

 

“The same one you had when you were worried I didn’t want any kind of commitment, so it’s likely safe to assume this is about summer ending.” 

  
  


“...No.” Her nose crinkled and he just shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Don’t laugh at me.” 

 

He pushed his hair back. “You’re such an idiot, Hermione.” 

 

Her heart warmed at the use of her first name, but calling her an idiot was mildly irritating. “That’s rude of you to say.” 

 

Draco reached for her across the dock, tugging her closer to his. His hand reached up to cup her face, and he brushed his lips against hers softly -- softer than he ever had. “I am not going to break off our relationship off just because we’re returning to a dusty, old castle. Do you understand? What has you so worried about that?” 

 

She shrugged. “My crippling self doubt, I suppose. It’s hard not to wonder what your friends would say. We’re vastly different. I’m afraid that I stop being Hermione and start being a -” 

 

His eyes flashed. “A Mudblood to me again?” He finished, swallowing hard. Grabbing her hand, and lacing his fingers through hers, he wore the most remorseful expression she thought she’d ever seen. “I’ll make it up to you, every day that you’ll have me. Can you accept that promise?” 

 

Her hair slipped from behind her ears. “If you break that promise, you’ll break my heart. Do you sincerely want to make that kind of promise to me?” Hermione’s voice was soft. 

 

“Of course I do,” he murmured over the waves meeting the dock below them. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” 

 

“Okay then,” she nodded, squeezing his hand. “Hold the sparkler, and don’t freak out.” 

 

His eyes widened. “Why does this suddenly feel like an awful idea?” Draco muttered, but held it up anyway. 

 

“No, hold the other end, or else you’ll set yourself on fi -” Hermione’s mouth snapped shut. “There you are, perfect!” She pulled her wand from her bag, tracing the pattern of the charm and murmuring  _ “Incendio.”  _

 

He did look a bit fearful when she held the flame to the end of the sparkler; though he hid it well enough. “Bloody fuck,” he jumped when it crackled, the sparks jetting out in bright hues of green. “What is that? It looks like an  _ Avada _ .” 

 

“It’s just colored lights,” she told him, scooting closer and taking it from his hand, waving it through the air. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?

 

“Pretty,” he agreed, resting his chin on the top of her head. “not as pretty as you.” 

 

She snorted. “There’s a line that took you minimal effort.”  The light died out, and she set it halfway off the dock so it wouldn’t leave burn marks. “What are you - Draco!” She scolded just as he yanked her off the edge alongside him. 

 

His mouth met hers as they resurfaced, and he hooked her legs around his waist. “Serves you right for not telling me what the damned stick would do,” he muttered. 

 

She giggled. “You use a wand everyday, Draco. A tiny firework is nothing compared to that.” Her arms slid around his neck, and she just hugged him tightly. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ August 31, 2018 _

_ Malfoy Manor _

 

Hermione Malfoy stood around the corner from the door leading into their attic, listening to the soft, but sure voice of her husband, and father of her children. She had originally climbed the stairs to help Lyra find the album. After their daughter hadn’t returned to the study, Hermione thought she must have given up on finding it since the wards hadn’t come down. 

 

But they they had nearly immediately after Draco flooed home. 

 

“You were scared of a sparkler?” Lyra giggled, and she sat with her legs crossed in the floor. “Mum!” The younger version of herself waved Hermione in. “I can’t you still married him after he was afraid of a tiny sparkler.” 

 

Draco spluttered. “Keep in mind, you, that I’d never seen one, or heard of firecrackers.” He brushed the hair that had fallen into his eyes back. “And don’t bring up those blasted firecrackers either. Potter and Weasley nearly killed us in, when was it, love?”

 

Pushing the sleeves of her jumper up to her elbows, she sat beside him, lacing her fingers through hers. “It was the summer of 2003, when they were visiting MACUSA, and you went along due to your funding for the Auror Department.” She said the last bit accusingly, giving him a look. 

 

“Don’t be offended for them; those twits would have spent several of my galleons on those firecrackers if I wasn’t there.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Where were the two of you at in the story?” 

 

Draco scoffed at her side, squeezing her hand. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been standing in the corridor this whole time.” 

 

“Guilty as charged,” 

 

He leaned down to kiss her cheek, followed by Scorpius’s loud “Gross, don’t kiss my mum in front of me.” 

 

Lyra laughed, bumping her shoulder against his. “Quit it, they’re cute together.” 

 

Scorpius gagged. “Dad was going to tell us about when the two of you went to a restaurant called Thioni before you returned to England for Hogwarts.” 

 

“Oh, was he?” Hermione laughed, glancing at her husband. “Which version?” 

 

Draco smirked, “The fairy tale version.” 

 

Both of their children looked horrified at the mischievous tone, and the innuendo in his voice. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


_ August 19 , 1998. 7:34 P.M. _

_ Mykonos Bay Hotel _

_ Mykonos _

  
  


Hermione felt as if she’d blinked and lost the summer. Standing in her shower, the dress she’d pulled from her closet still laying on her bed, her heart felt heavy. They were going to another restaurant tonight, and all she could think about was how they had short eleven days left. It was just mere days before they returned to England, and to Diagon Alley for her next school year. 

 

After the appearance of her friends in Mykonos, she’d expected a Howler at the least, but all she had received was a copy of the Daily Prophet. Seeing their names in the headline, Draco set it on fire before pressing her to the bed and making her forget all about it. 

 

There was a crack as he apparated into her hotel room. The bathroom door opened quietly, just as she was stepping out of the shower in her rush to get ready. He froze, he’d been buttoning his suit, as he looked her up and down. “Oh, fuck.” 

 

Hermione’s cheeks felt hot. “Hello,” she muttered, finally able to move and she walked over to the counter in front of the mirror. She refused to be so shy, especially when he looked at her as if she was all he’d ever wanted. “Sorry I’m not ready yet.” Hermione picked her wand up from the counter, casting a quick drying spell and tying her hair up. 

 

“Wear it down,” he choked, stepping behind her her, and pulling the pin from her hair. It clattered against the marble. Draco stared at her, his eyes cast downwards. “I don’t even want to go to the fucking restaurant now.” 

 

Her eyebrow quirked up. “Oh? What would you rather do then?” She asked him, casting beauty charms on herself while he kneaded her hips. “Draco?” His head snapped up at her voice. “I asked you what you would rather do.” 

 

“I’d rather keep you like this,” he muttered, hissing between his teeth when she rubbed her arse against him. “Granger,” he warned. 

 

“I’ll be just a moment. Let me go put my dress on,” Hermione told him, completely disregarding what he’d said. If he wanted her that badly he’d have to work for it. She pulled a pair of earrings from the dresser in her hotel room, swaying her hips ever so slightly as she put them on. “What restaurant are we going to?” 

 

“Thioni,” he rasped, coming behind her to in her against the edge of the dresser. “Though I’m rethinking that now with you prancing around naked.” 

 

She smirked just as he gripped her hips, before his hands slid up her stomach. “As lovely as that sounds, I’m famished.”Hermione whimpered when the soft pads of his fingers brushed against her nipples. 

 

“Are you?” He asked, nipping her earlobe. “Because I think you’re just playing hard to get.” 

 

“That’s not all,” she muttered, slumping against him. “I want to tease you just because I can, but I’m not, ah,” she broke off when his hand slipped lower once more, and he rubbed her clit. “Experienced.” 

 

“I couldn’t give a fuck.” He growled. “Tell me whether you want to go to that restaurant, Granger. I’ll give you what you want, whether it’s,” 

 

“Bed,” Hermione blurted, mortified, but he didn’t notice how she worried was when he picked her up. Draco wrapped her legs around his waist, his hand flat against the small of her back. ‘You’re wearing too many clothes.” She gasped. 

 

His clothes,  _ bloody all of them,  _ vanished with little more than a wave of her hand. “Merlin, wandless and nonverbal?” 

 

“I’m in a hurry.” She bit out, twining her fingers into his hair. “And it’s hardly fair that I’m naked and you’re not.” 

 

He grinned, ducking his head down to slide his tongue against her nipple. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he laid her down, working his way down her body. Listening to her breathy whimpers, he licked the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, making her cry out in frustration. 

 

“Draco, I don’t,” she gasped. “I want you, just you, and  _ now. _ ” 

 

He peeked up at her, the doubt all too clear in his eyes. “Granger,” 

 

She shook her head, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him close. “What do I have to do to prove to you that all I want is to feel you?” She murmured, reaching between them to grasp his throbbing cock, her thumb swiping across the head. “I want you inside of me,” 

 

“Fuck,” he growled, parting her legs with his knee and settling in between them. “I don’t know what I did to get so fucking lucky -”

 

“It’s astonishing what can happen if you’re not a massive prick all of the time,” Hermione laughed, sliding her palms over his chest, her index finger tracing his scar, and then wrapping her arms around his neck. 

 

He rolled his eyes. “I think you like that I’m only nice to you,” his fingers slid against her clit. “Merlin, you’re soaking for me, Hermione.” Color flooded her face, and she tried to hide her reddening cheeks. “Don’t hide from me.” 

 

Tilting her head back, Draco kissed her, stealing her moans for himself when he slowly pushed inside of her. 

 

Hermione gasped as she was stretched to accommodate him;  she buried her face in the crook of his neck, scratching at his back. “Stay there,” she breathed. “Just for a minute,” 

 

He was more tender than she’d ever seen him when he trailed kisses down her neck, his fingers massaging her hips. “You’re incredible,” he choked. “The way you feel around me is -”

 

“Move,” she whispered weakly. “Please move.” 

 

The times she’d had sex hadn’t been painful, and it hadn’t been as all encompassing as this. With each thrust, his hands were everywhere: on her breasts, or rubbing her clit to drag moans from her, and it was all she could do grasp onto a shred of self control. 

 

“Oh, my God,” she keened, digging her ankles into the bottom of his back as his biceps slid under her, caging her against him. “Draco,”

 

“I should have bloody asked, but I’m a tosser,” he groaned, bottoming out inside of her. “Are you on the contraceptive potion?” She nodded fervently, urging him to go faster. Draco reached between them once more, pulling his arm out from behind her. “I want to watch you come for me, love.” 

 

“Yes,” She mewled, her back arching as his fingers moved against her. “It’s really not fair that you’re so good at that.” 

 

He grinned wickedly. “You won’t be saying that tomorrow morning,” he murmured, and his movements quickened, cutting off any coherent reply she could have attempted. 

 

“I think,” she gasped, her fingers threading through her tangled, frizzy hair as she arched off of the soft sheets once more. 

 

“Let go,” he demanded. 

 

She thought it might have been the roughness in his voice that took her over the edge, but it was everything all at once. Hermione trembled beneath him, pride blooming in her chest at his loud groan as he came. 

 

He was careful when got off of her, motioning for her to come closer. Pressing his lips to her hair, he wrapped his arm around her. “Why are you laughing? That’s rude to do after,”

 

She swatted his chest. “I’m laughing at something you said earlier this summer - well, I’m laughing at two things actually. Do you remember when earlier this summer you told me that my ‘trashy romance novels’ set abnormally high expectations?”

 

“For Merlin’s sake, do not compare me to Harper,” 

 

She fell into a fit of giggles. “I am comparing you, but I think you’re better.” 

 

He glanced down at her, a smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. “Of course you do. You’re the brightest witch of our age, after all.” He chuckled. 

 

“Oh, sod off,”

 

“What was the other thing you were laughing about?” He asked quietly drawing circles over the skin of her back. 

 

“Oh, I was just thinking of how I punched you in third year, and here we are.” 

 

“Here we are,” he murmured, lacing his fingers through her hair once more and lowering his mouth to hers. 

* * *

  
  
  


_ August 31, 2018 _

_ Malfoy Manor _

 

With their children having left the manor for one last trip to Diagon Alley, and to meet with Harry, and Ron’s children, Hermione sat in her husband’s lap, flipping through the album of the summer of ‘98. 

 

“I love you so much,” she whispered, tracing her fingers over the first photo she’d ever taken on him, on the cobblestone streets of Little Venice. 

 

“And I you,” he kissed the spot beneath her ear. “As much as I love these photos, there’s a set I happen to prefer.” 

 

She snorted. “Is that so? Well, they’re sealed up in our bedroom where no one but us will ever find them.” 

 

Draco kissed down her neck, slipping the collar of her jumper down her shoulder. “Our children will be gone all night, bothering Potter, or Weasley. How do you feel about recreating those photos?” 

 

Hermione shivered. “That sounds like an excellent idea.” She sprung to her feet, placing the album back into the portrait. “You’ll have to catch me though.” She dashed from the room, leaving her husband to shake his head. 

 

“Malfoy!” He yelled, and her laugh floated up the stairs. 

 

“You just like the sound of your name being mine!” She called back. 

 

* * *

  
  


_ September 1, 1998 _

_ Hogwarts Express _

 

Hermione told herself that she was’t a particularly violent person, but if Pansy Parkinson ever tried to snog her boyfriend again, she would certainly rectify that immediately. 

 

Draco sat at her side in one of the cars while she laid her head on his shoulder. “I’ll never forget the look on her face when you told her ‘don’t touch my boyfriend.’” Draco shook with laughter. 

 

Hermione scowled, “Who tries to just song someone randomly? Sure, she’s slept with you, but that’s no excuse.” 

 

“Apparently her father was in the process of trying to draw up a marriage contract between us. Mother rejected it, so she was likely trying to change my mind.” 

 

Hermione looked at him, tilting her head to the side. “Your mother rejected it? I would have assumed..” 

 

“Right, yes, she rejected it without hearing his entire monologue on how it would be beneficial to our families. She spoke with me last night, and told me that I was not to marry anyone that was not you.”

 

Hermione’s mouth fell open. “She didn’t,”

 

Draco grinned, “She most certainly did. You made quite the impression on her at dinner last night.”

 

“Well, you’ll have to work for marriage.” She clicked her tongue. “It’s not as easy as offering me a large dowry to convince me to marry you.”

 

He snorted, “Not to worry, Granger; whatever a Malfoy does, a Malfoy does well.” 

 


End file.
